Lead Me Home
by Brigid the Fae
Summary: The promises of serenity are like legends to those who hear the call of the sea. For most, it is true. For a small number, any peace was lost with one of their own. Is it too much to ask for to bring them back?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** If you're reading this after reading "Call Me Maybe", please remember this is _not_ a sequel! It's got the same cast, but it's a whole other story; just wanted to make sure I didn't confuse anyone. ;)

-x-x-x-x-x-

The world was no more.

Not what the elves that knew of it was, anyway. The lands of middle earth that held any trace of elven inhabitance had long since passed to foliage and animal life as the dominion of men came to rule at the turn of the Fourth Age. As the last ship sailed the west road to Valinor, change was already taking place.

In Valinor itself, much was happening. Families of elves were reuniting and making new homes in colonies across the peaceful lands, starting new lives and finding new loves. Others that had found their loves before sailing were taking the opportunity to start the families that they wanted, but held back for fear of the worst during the War of the Ring.

The former lords and ladies of the Greenwood and Lorien kingdoms were united by the bonding of their youngest heirs, Legolas Thranduilion, and Ithilwen Haldiriel, the second granddaughter of the Lady Galadriel. The bonding ceremony took place in middle earth, where friends mortal and immortal would bear witness to the exchange of vows and rings, as the pair had requested. Now that they were beginning to settle into their lives in Valinor, among the high talans so reminiscent of Lorien and Ithilien, the young couple were in talks of having their first child.

As it happens in peaceful times, there is always that one ripple that can rock the foundation to its very core. It's never something that is intended to happen.

* * *

Ithilwen was tending to some of the village's youngest elflings one afternoon. They were very animated for that time of day, when usually they would have been preparing to rest. She had taken on the task so that their parents could travel into town for the day's errands without stress because she felt like it would be a means of practice when she and Legolas decided to start their own family.

She could smell the onset of the rain before the dark clouds rolled in, but she paid it no mind. If it were a sprinkle, they would enjoy the cooling effect and continue play. However, with any particularly hot summer day comes the likelihood of severe weather, and the afternoon's bright skies were ripe with possibilities.

The rumble that followed shortly after the first sprinkles had the elleth corralling the younglings together. Some had wandered off from their group, and Ithilwen had to collect them while the eldest of the group led those with them to the nearest shelter. The children had been playing a game of seek and find, and the very youngest misjudged how far they had drifted. When Ithilwen found the little ellon, he was distressed to the point of tears, afraid that one of the bigger kids wouldn't find him.

As she carried him back to the other children, the storm had reached their area. The winds had picked up, the rain came down harder, and the combination of the thunder and lightening were frightening the children huddled together. Ithilwen picked up speed as she carried the child in her arms, trying her best to remain calm. She was still a good distance from the little group, which made it all the more worse when the ellon's brother decided to break away from the group and run to his temporary guardian. Ithilwen tried to tell him to turn back, but the sounds of the thunder over their heads proved this a fruitless endeavor. The ellon grew worried that he couldn't find his little brother and simply wasn't thinking. This ill-made decision put him at risk, and he did not notice.

For a ways distance in the closest stables was a horse that had yet to be broken of his wild lifestyle. The trainers were having no luck getting the beast to cooperate and comply to their orders. Having a sudden thunderstorm break across the sky with its booming sounds to accompany the bright streaks of lightning did nothing to soothe this horse's mentality. One strike had landed close enough to this particular horse's stable to send it into a fit, raising all manner of noise and destruction as it kicked it's stable gate into splinters and sped out into the fields.

Ithilwen saw the horse coming before the stable hands could formulate what had happened. When she saw them attempt to chase the horse on foot, she knew they would never reach it, and its erratic path was directly in line with the older ellon that was currently running to her...

"Go! Run!" Ithilwen shouted orders to the older brother as she broke into a sprint to meet him, pushing his little brother into his arms before shoving them aside quickly. The rogue horse was picking up speed, but she had sworn to those parents that she would take care of the children. But what could she do? This problem-horse was well-known for his bad behavior, and it didn't look like any more progress was made in taming him. The stable hands were still too far away, so it came to fall on her shoulders to stop this animal.

Bracing herself, Ithilwen prepared to intercept the beast by leaping onto his back and calming him to a trot. If she could lead him away from the children, the older ones would keep them together and safe until the horse was subdued. She felt her shoulder connect with the horse's broad chest and she let out a yelp as she attempted to vault onto its back. Ithilwen misjudged the enormity of this creature, having never been this close to it. The shoulder throbbed as she clung to the horse's neck for her life as it continued to run. With a tug to its mane, she was able to steer the horse away from the children, but instead of leading the horse back to the stables as she had planned, the horse went in the opposite direction, further into the fields.

* * *

While Ithilwen had been spending the day attending to some of the children, Legolas had been assisting his dwarven friend Gimli with the construction of some new homes. They were finishing up for the day early due to the unexpected weather when shouts were heard across the area. Extra stable hands were running to them, shouting about the rogue horse getting loose and somehow Ithilwen had managed to climb atop it. Before Gimli could ask the elf what he was talking about, Legolas had taken off in the direction in which another elf had pointed. He didn't know the whole story at that point and he didn't need to. Ithilwen was on a horse that he would have never let her near, and he had to save her.

Running across the field, he could make out the form of the large horse in the distance through the rain. This wasn't good; the horse was going into a heavily-laden construction area. As he neared the area, the horse had become trapped in the maze of foundations and framework. Legolas didn't have time to warn Ithilwen that the horse was prone to bucking when frightened, but the uncalled for lightning proved to be sufficient. The beast neighed loudly, rearing up on its back legs suddenly. Ithilwen, having nothing but the slick strands of mane to hold onto, was pitched violently off its back.

"ITHILWEN!" Legolas shouted as he ran into the construction zone. She landed in what looked to be a pile of debris, but as he neared closer he felt his blood run cold.

Ithilwen lay amid a pile of discarded stone that was deemed unfit to use as foundation. Her body lay limp across the broken shards like a rag doll, with a nasty gash against her temple, leaving the rock beneath her head stained with blood.

"Ithilwen! Ithilwen!" She was unconscious and unresponsive even when Legolas lightly slapped her cheeks. There was no one nearby to help him, and he feared even as he lifted her body up that he was doing more harm than good, but he could not leave her in the rain. It was apparent that she was badly injured, and from the way her body sagged in his arms, he feared for the worst.

* * *

The healers that had attended to the young mate of the woodland prince would never forget the day that he had stormed into the building screaming for help. He was soaked to the bone, as was she, and even sported the dark-stained clothing from where she had bled as he held her against him. They would also never forget the time they had in trying to get him to turn her over to their care. It's not to be surprised, he was terrified, so they allowed him the opportunity to remain in the room.

It was all Legolas could do not to swarm the healers as they stripped the wet clothes from his wife's body and began to dry and dress her in a gown. They were speaking in rapid Sindarin, and while he could make out the words "broken" and "deep", it was more than he could bear. With that, he silently excused himself from the room she was in, only to collapse into tears just outside her door.

That was how his and Ithilwen's parents found him when they reached the healing quarters. Both ellith were in instant mother-mode, trying to calmly get Legolas to tell them everything that happened while at the same time trying to calm his frayed nerves. Legolas' voice cracked as he retold them of how he saw Ithilwen atop the untamable horse and how it threw her during the middle of the storm.

Much later, one of the chief healers in the vicinity came out to greet the parents and the prince. His face was grim and he looked both tired and upset. "My Lords, My Ladies... We've done all that can be done for Lady Ithilwen. The wounds that she has sustained are far greater than our healing magic can repair. The stones that Lord Legolas informed us he found her on have broken six of her ribs, and from the placement of the fractures we can only assume she has internal bleeding."

"That's something you know how to repair," Morwen said worriedly. "What are you not telling us?"

The healer sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Ithilwen's spine has been severely damaged," he said finally. "Because of the sheer number of broken bones, we cannot turn her to inspect her spinal column without running the risk of doing further damage. This would require a long recovery on her part, if she is up for the fight. However...if she manages to heal her body, I cannot say for certain that she would walk again."

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked. "My mate is as strong as any warrior that has been in these quarters!"

"I am only suggesting that you do not set your hopes too high, my lord. Lady Ithilwen could have suffered nerve damage, which is irreparable. You must remember that she is bleeding internally. There is nothing we can do to stop the bleeding." The healer placed a hand comfortingly on the prince's shoulder. "I would suggest to prepare yourselves for the worst, my lord. There is the small chance that your wife can make it through this, but do not place all of your hope in so small a possibility."

The healer excused himself to seek counsel with the others in the room, who looked less than comfortable, knowing that their talents were of no further use to the injury that was beyond them. The family that gathered around the frail elleth's bed had nearly succumbed to sobs, watching as Legolas took the eerily pale hand of his beloved and held tight.

The tears that he had been fighting back were flowing freely now as he desperately prayed to the Valar that she would recover so they could live out their lives like they'd vowed. He knew in his heart that this was not to be, as much as he did not want to accept it. As he looked down at his mate, he knew that she was beyond the hope of healing. Her normally flush cheeks were colorless, and even as her blanket covered her form, the broken deformity could still be seen in the way the folds fell across her chest.

Ithilwen's hand was steadily beginning to lose what warmth it had, and he knew he was losing her. He wanted to tell her to fight back against her injuries. He wanted to tell her to sit up and argue with him like she used to. He wanted to hold her tightly against him and feel her heartbeat against his chest, but he knew this would never happen. "Ithilwen..." he whispered in choked sobs. "Ithilwen...I will always love you. You are my everything, melamin. I do not know how I can do this without you by my side... You have to find some way to come back to me, my love...my Ithilwen..."

* * *

Two days after the accident, Ithilwen passed away.

The healers left in the room would never forget the strangled cry of anguish that came from the former Lord of Ithilien, nor the way he continued to hold the lifeless hand of his once youthful and lovely wife. They would forever see the former lords and ladies of the realms break down in sobs as the news was passed to them that they had lost one of their most precious belongings.

The funeral that took place was as somber and gray as Legolas appeared. Among the family in attendance was the small hobbits Bilbo and Frodo, the wizard Mithrandir, and the young prince's treasured friend, Gimli. They had all begun to show signs of their age in Valinor, and the heavy depression that settled over the company made the aging appear that much older.

Morwen had commented that it was a beautiful ceremony, in an attempt to find comfort in the fact that she had to lay her own child to rest, but it was for naught. She as well as everyone else knew it, but they would continue to nod and agree, as if it might have helped accept the fact that one of their own had gone to the Halls of Mandos.

Nothing could quell the hurt and upset in Legolas, though. The greatest thing that had ever happened to him had been taken from him, right when they had just started to truly live. It wasn't fair. Why should she be the one to leave? Why had the storm chosen to appear so suddenly? Why couldn't it have been himself that had taken the brunt of the blow? Why couldn't he have been the one on the horse? He often wondered why he couldn't have taken her place, but he knew that she would think the same things if their roles had been reversed. She was like that, willing to throw herself in harms way to protect him and those she loved.

But it was an accident. No one could have forseen that, not even the Lady Galadriel. She once told them she had seen them in a dream with a small herd of children running about their ankles, with appearances that took after both of them. Now that was gone. Forever.

Or was it?

For nigh on the first month since Ithilwen's passing, a heavy watch was kept over Legolas. Everyone suspected - and even fully expected in hushed conversation - that it would not be long before he followed her to the Halls of Mandos. Even the dwarf Gimli could not raise his spirits with stories of the war and their killing competitions, for the prince was too far gone to so much as appear to feign interest. His parents and Ithilwen's watched from afar, not knowing what - if anything - could be done to lift his mood.

One day, Mithrandir appeared before the lords and ladies. "I bring word from the Valar themselves," he explained. The wizard was surprised to see how quickly the loss of his wife had taken its toll on the young prince; bedraggled and forlorn, it seemed that Legolas was indeed attempting to grieve himself to fade so that he might have a hope of returning to Ithilwen, if only in spirit.

"Lady Nienna has been thinking much of you these past weeks, Legolas," Mithrandir spoke to the downcast elf, who hadn't so much as acknowledged his own name. Miraear had brought him to sit between herself and Morwen at the table. "She sees and feels the grief that you bear each day, my boy, as do the rest of us. You know that you are not alone in this sorrow."

"If everyone is aware of what I am going through, then why make a formal announcement from the Valar themselves to point that out?" Legolas had spoken softly, but there was a tint of bitterness on the tip of his tongue.

"My boy, is that why you think I am here? Of course not! I bring good news, you silly elf!"

"What could possibly be good news to me, anymore? That I am soon to die so that I can join my beloved?" He was pitying himself, he knew. Just as he knew that the words had upset the ellith on either side of him, but instead of gasping or crying, they had taken each of his hands and squeezed, almost as if they understood that his suicidal thoughts were void of any conviction. The truth was, Legolas didn't want to die; Ithilwen wouldn't have wanted that for him, but he couldn't see a world without her in it anymore. It left him at a loss of what to do.

"Do not be daft! I come bearing words from Namo himself! It appears that princess Ithilwen's fëa has safely made it within the Halls of Waiting, just four days ago." Mithrandir adjusted his robes, pausing for effect. "She asked Namo personally to send a message to her loved ones..."

That had done the trick. Legolas' head shot up expectantly, and he vaguely realized that his mother and mother-in-law were squeezing his hands harder. "W...what does she say?" he managed to get out, a sudden lump forming in his throat.

Mithrandir smiled for the first time since he arrived. "Lady Ithilwen sends her love, as to be expected. She does not know how long she will be in the Halls of Waiting, however, but she misses everyone. She does not wish for you to grieve yourself to death, Legolas. Lady Nienna has visited and spoken of the grief you bear around her passing, and it pains - and irritates - her that you would think to do something so foolish."

"But how can she expect me to go on as if I had never met her? It's not possible for me, Mithrandir, my heart hurts too much to forget her."

"As you shouldn't!" he nodded. "Lady Ithilwen wishes that you would try to return to your former self; she cannot stand the thought of you wasting away when you still have so much to live for."

"What do I possibly have!" Legolas nearly snapped. "The only thing in the world that I had that I could ever want was taken away from me!"

"Do not make me use my staff, young man," Mithrandir chided. "I may not have aged in appearance in some years but I am a tired old man who will not hesitate to use his walking stick on you." He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Lady Ithilwen has made her decision to have her fëa be reembodied."

Silence followed Mithrandir's words for what felt like the longest time. No one spoke, trying to comprehend just what was said. Finally, Legolas choked out, "Ithilwen... Ithilwen will return to me?" The crack in his voice was the first sign of hope that anyone had seen in some time.

Mithrandir nodded. "It will be some time, as Namos has to make preparations for her reembodiment, but I have been told under the strictest tone by Namos from Ithilwen to not let you succumb to grief, Legolas. She does not want to return to find that you have taken a trip to the Halls of Mandos because of your stubborness and impatience to be reunited!"

Morwen choked back a sob and laughed. "Ithilwen's returning!" She leaned forward to see the beaming smile upon her friend's face. "Miraear! Just think of how happy everyone will be to hear of this news!"

Miraear wiped some tears away from her cheeks with her free hand and looked to her son. He wasn't displaying as much excitement as they were, but she could already see the light and color return to his eyes, and it was then that she knew that Legolas was slowly coming back from his grief. Even from the Halls of Waiting, Ithilwen had saved him.

* * *

Months had passed without any sign or signal from the Valar as to Ithilwen's whereabouts. As the days approached to the anniversary of the accident that took her from her loved ones, Legolas was beginning to believe that it had all been a joke, but there was a small part of him that told him not to lose hope just yet, that his Ithilwen would return to him.

Finally, Mithrandir had come to visit again with news from the Valar.

"Do not be alarmed," he began, which only seemed to raise their suspicions when he added, "Namos has had difficulty in finding a suitable form for Lady Ithilwen's fëa."

"What kind of difficulty?" Morwen asked. "Is he not going to let her return?"

Mithrandir's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Goodness, no! Nothing like that!" He cleared his throat as he brought his empty pipe out of his robe pocket. "No, it appears that there is not a suitable form for her fëa within the borders of Valinor."

"Where else could he possibly find a form?"

"In Arda," the old man said simply. "Ithilwen is to be reborn in the body of a mortal in what exists of Arda today. She will live her youth as a mortal until she approaches her maturity. During this time she will regain the memories of her past life as well as the body her fëa now occupies adjusts to its elven form."

"But she'll grow up without her family!" Miraear stated, looking sadly to her friend. "How will she know that these memories are not illusions of the mind? There are no more elves in Arda! She will be completely alone in the world!"

Legolas, who had been on the other side of the room and silent for much of this discussion stood up suddenly from his seat. "Then I must find a way to get to her," he said as he started to pace. "She is my mate. I cannot leave her to walk alone in the world."

"That is well and good ion-nin, but how will you get to Arda? As far as we know the Straight Road only allows passage _to_ Valinor."

Mithrandir returned the pipe to his robe pocket, and shuffled something in another pocket. The elves watched as he extracted a folded piece of parchment that contained what appeared to be a map written in ink. "We thought as much," he mumbled, laying the map out flat on the nearby table as they gathered around. "Arda has indeed changed much since the last ship has left. The lands have broken and reformed so much that you would hardly recognize anything."

"Why does that matter?" Miraear asked, getting irritated with his riddles. "You speak as if you know of a way to sail back!"

"I do," he said, chuckling as they all froze. "Did you really believe I had brought this piece of parchment out because I am a senile old man? I assure you, my Lady, that this map will lead you back to Arda."

"We can go back?" Legolas said at last. The idea sounded so far out there that he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not. He was still trying to tell himself that Ithilwen's death was not a dream, even as he woke from the nightmares each night to find that her side of the bed remained empty. To be able to go back and find his mate all over again was daunting, but if he had the opportunity, he was not about to ignore it.

"That is what I have been trying to say!"

"Then you should speak clearer!" Both Morwen and Miraear told him.

Legolas waved his hand to get everyone's attention. "There must be a clause to this. It simply cannot be that easy."

"There is," Mithrandir nodded, "The Straight Road will open to the remains of the Gray Havens only once every seven years." He pointed to what appeared to be a small island on the map. "From there you will be close enough to shore to venture further into what I believe are the remains of Lindon. You will need to keep track of the years more carefully when you arrive so that you can properly prepare for your return."

It would be complicated, but Legolas was dead-set on tackling this task with enthusiasm. He had no idea what he would find when he reached Arda, and he knew nothing of where Ithilwen would be. All he knew was that she would be there somewhere, and he was going to find her.

In the next five years that passed, preparations were made to sail the Straight Road once more. A number of family members would not pass up the chance to take the adventure, even after arguments were made to suggest that only a few go. What followed thereafter was a long journey that held nervousness, excitement, and wary anticipation as to the changes the world of Men had brought upon Arda, as well as how and when they would locate Ithilwen.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N:** What'd you think? I know - it's really depressing and I'm sorry! Believe me I had a good reason for writing the prologue like that. The next chapter won't be as tear-inducing, I promise! And remember, this story isn't a rewrite of Call Me Maybe! It's AU, or better known as "naturally I get this idea _after_ I'm halfway through my original idea with these guys". I hope you enjoyed this taste of my newest story while I work on the epilogues of Call Me Maybe. I've been watching the poll on my profile and will work on all of the stories listed when time (and inspiration) allow, and given the way my brain works, it could be all at once at times! Let me know your thoughts on this one, I'm really curious!


	2. Chapter 2

The busy streets of San Francisco did little to give way to the rushed young woman that sped across the sidewalks on her bicycle. It wasn't a practical means of transport, but having to pick up a shift at work left little time to make it to the bus stop to catch the last bus to her college campus. It was frustrating, as the person's shift she stepped up to replace had asked if she could cover the remainder of their shifts for the rest of the week due to "doctor's appointments". The young woman couldn't say no, for she desperately needed the money to pay to keep from being homeless, let alone eat a decent meal.

The college scenery crept onto the horizon as she pedaled faster, catching the speed of gravity as the bike crested the hilltop and proceeded downward. Working overtime had it's perks, she tried to reason with herself, just not when it came down to making the evening classes.

Like many of the students that attended college, she was a drifter. Knowing that she wanted a degree but with no particular drive to seek something more specific, she chose to major in liberal arts with art history as her minor. She loved to create art as much as she did seeing the great works featured in her textbooks or in small pixeled graphics online. Attending one of the art museums in her area was both out of her time and financial budgets.

The young woman knew that there was something more "out there" that was meant for her, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was. Something, something big was missing in her life, and she intended to find it. 'Can't do that without any money though' she thought to herself. 'or much of an education. But I have to go to school to get the knowledge to earn money, though I have to go to work to pay to go to college to cover the costs of getting that knowledge so that I might find out just what it is I'm missing.' she groaned, thinking of the mounting student loan debt that she was acquiring by going to college. The area wasn't the most economically affordable, but she couldn't afford to move elsewhere, thus finding herself in a pit of debt and no clear goal to look towards.

Some days life made it hard to get out of bed.

For eighteen years, she had grown up in the Shady Oak orphanage, with no record or hint of evidence as to whom her biological parents were. She wasn't even sure she was eighteen years old when they released her as a fully capable adult into the real world; they had just kept her for the allotted eighteen years and made her believe that it was her age.

Any information regarding her initial appearance was a blur as well. What she did know was that she was found on the doorstep, wrapped in soft, heavy linens that the attendant arriving for office work almost mistook for scattered laundry had it not been for the soft cries of the infant from within. There was no nametag, and no letter of resignation from the parents of the child, thus the secretary brought the small girl to the heads of the organization, fussing over her appearance and lack of knowledge as to handle the situation. From that day forward, the small infant girl was named Winifred Sioda by the woman who found her, in honor of her great grandmother and the silky touch of the infant's platinum hair. None of them would ever live to hear that the little Winnie was actually an elleth from the Golden Wood, Ithiliwen Haldiriel.

After securing her bike and running across the large campus courtyard, Winnie sped with haste up the stairs of the second floor of the Gee building to her biology lecture. The miniature auditorium was just beginning to fill up with students from the various course sections of the class. It was an odd arrangement for a summer semester; the typical sixteen week course was condensed into eight weeks over two months, making it more fast paced and harder to catch up if one fell behind in studies. Winnie had signed up for the summer course only because repeated attempts in the fall and spring continued to conflict with her work schedule. She couldn't afford to be fired, and with her student loans to remind her, she couldn't very well afford to fail the lecture and lab classes, either. One benefit of taking the evening courses was that she was surrounded more by adults her age than the just out of high school students who showed very little evidence that they had just earned their diplomas that May.

Winnie felt herself sink into the wooden auditorium chair, flopping her books down into her lap unceremoniously with a sigh. The guy beside her gave her a lopsided grin and commented, "You just made it, Wen. Instructor ain't even here yet."

"Probably stopped for supper on his way," another guy joked from the row behind him. "Wish he'd bring us something sometime. I haven't eaten since lunch!"

"Well I haven't eaten since last night, unless you count that doughnut hole that Gene made me eat when I went into work this morning." To prove Winnie's point, her stomach chose that moment to growl.

"Why haven't you eaten, Wen?" the first guy asked.

Winnie shrugged. "Haven't had time. Laurie called and asked me to take her morning shifts for the week, and I was up late finishing that lab report so I slept in. When I remembered that I had to get ready for work, I knew I had to skip breakfast or I wouldn't make it in time."

"Gene should be feeding you better," the second guy sniffed disdainfully. "Didn't he know that you hadn't eaten?"

"No and I intended to keep it that way," Winnie mumbled as the instructor passed them, the scent of a greasy fast food dinner making nearby mouths water like it were a five course meal. "I'll figure it out myself. I think I've done alright so far."

When her stomach growled again, both guys shared a look that clearly said otherwise.

* * *

Night had fallen well before the biology class had ended. Since the instructor was going out of town for a conference by the weekend, the third meeting had been combined with the current evening's lecture to help prepare them for the last unit test before finals. The breeze that shook the leafy trees on campus did nothing to cool the temperatures down either, but then, it was the second week in July.

"What?" Wennie ground out, not even looking at her friend.

"I'm concerned that you haven't eaten anything but a donut hole today," he said. "I still say that Gene could be doing a better job of looking out for you at work."

Bernard had been one of the first people Ithilwen met when she started college in her freshmen year. He was also a first-year student, coincidentally on the same degree path. Wennie met him during the freshmen orientation meeting, and they had quickly become friends as they struggled to make their way through the expansive campus the first day of classes. Bernard had stuck by her each year, and while she was truly grateful for that, she couldn't help but feel like he was being a mother hen at times.

"Look," she said, changing the position of the shoulder bag, "I've been trying to loose some weight anyway. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? No big deal?!" The dark curls shook as he began to sputter in disbelief. "How can not eating not be a big deal? You need food to fuel your body, Wennie! If you go without you'll crash eventually, and when you're laying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube in your arm how are you going to pay your rent, huh?!"

Wennie stopped and stared hard at her friend, a little annoyed that he brought up her financial struggles as a means of guilt. But Bernard continued to stare back at her, not looking the least bit sorry. He hated to be tough on the girl, but if it meant that she ate _something_, then it would be worth it.

"I've got some food at home, alright? Does that satisfy you, B?"

"Not until I see it and I see you eat it." He shrugged the bag off her shoulder and took the books in her arms. "Come on, we'll pick up your bike and I'll give you a ride home."

She knew it was pointless to argue by this point. When Bernard had his mind set on something, especially where it concerned her well being, he intended to stick to his plan. That meant that when it was this late at night, he refused to let her ride her bike home, no matter how many reflective stickers she had put on it.

* * *

Wennie's "home" was in fact a small apartment set in a decent neighborhood, but the owner of the building had chosen not to keep the interior as pristine as its exterior. It was always "on his list of things to do" whenever Bernard had asked the man in passing, but as he was led upstairs, it didn't look like much had changed. The walls were painted brick and the floor covering was a very thin grayish green carpet that had seen too many years and far more tenants that it should have. There was an old elevator that operated when it chose to, and the occupants of the building knew by now to take the stairs because the time for technical support to reach them was far slower.

"You know the drill, B. Come in and make yourself at home." Wennie moved out of the way after she had unlocked the door to let Bernard pass before entering herself.

Bernard looked around the apartment as Wennie dropped her keys on the nearest table and took her belongings back, only to drop them on the coffee table. He had often heard that the appearance of one's living space was often a reflection on their personality, and for Wennie...well it looked as if she were having a rough time of life. He had seen the rent receipt a few times and knew that for the size, it was way too small for it's monthly cost. She continued to live with it because she had no other options; it was close to the college and to her work, and campus rooming was too expensive to consider. The belongings she had were sparse and spread out, most of it second-hand furniture and the rare splurge of knick knacks she had acquired on her weekend trips to the local thrift stores. What she hadn't bought had been given to her by the previous tenants. In fact the "newest" items that she owned were the 4-year old laptop she bought on clearance for school and the flip cover cell phone whose battery cover was held on by duct tape.

He moved into the kitchen, remembering his original plan and began to open the cabinets, then the refrigerator. Wennie had, as of that day, about four packs of ramen noodles, two cans of great norther beans, a box of cheap macaroni and cheese, a quarter of a loaf of bread, a smidge of peanut butter, and a jar of mayo.

"I'm ordering delivery, Wen. What do you want?" He had grabbed the old leaflet on the counter and began to rifle through its deals with one hand while he began to punch numbers on his phone with the other.

"I. Have. Food. Bernard."

"Not from the looks of it."

Before Wennie could get the words out that she was capable of making something besides a hot mess with what she had, Bernard had held a hand up to silence her as he placed a rather large order from two neighboring eateries. It would have been funny to witness the rival company delivery boys appear at her door simultaneously, but Bernard was past a joking mood. He had seen firsthand what she had called "having groceries", and knowing that she wouldn't go shopping again for at least a week did not reassure him that she could sustain her busy schedule on starchy noodles and beans.

The coffee table had been cleared of Wennie's books to make room for the delivery boxes and drinks. Bernard stayed with her under the pretense that they could go over their notes, but really he was just making sure she ate. It was much later before he finally left, telling her to keep what was left so that she could make her "groceries" stretch until she got to the store. She tried to fix a plate for him but he declined each time, telling her he had gotten plenty to eat, and besides that, his roommate would have ruby tackled him if he smelled the greasy treat.

Wennie watched from her window as Bernard exited the building and found his way to his car. She really hated having people buy her food, but since it was her closest friend in school, she had to accept that he would insist until she caved. He was a really good friend to do that, especially when most would sooner complain of their own problems to make them sound more vulnerable.

That was something she couldn't bring herself to do. Wennie did her best not to complain about the stress that she faced every day and instead tried to find the things in her life to be thankful for. She had a place to live in an alright neighborhood, even if it was small, overpriced, and not in that great of condition. She had food to eat, even if it was preprocessed and likely to add more pounds to her hips. She was going to school to get a higher education, even if it meant that she was putting herself into tens of thousands of dollars in debt. She had work, even if it was a waitressing gig, but the perks of that were the atmosphere, and that said a lot. But right then, as she turned away to store the uneaten food in the refrigerator, she had a true friend that cared, and that was something she couldn't complain about.

Wennie then moved to her bedroom and changed into some nightclothes before crawling under the blankets. As she laid in bed she tried once more to convince herself that her life wasn't as bad as Bernard was making it out to be. She didn't like to ask for help because she felt that she didn't deserve it if she couldn't do something herself. The idea of handouts was nowhere near her philosophy of work ethic either. She would work as hard as she needed to to pay off her debts, and if that meant decades and multiple jobs, then so be it.

The only issue with Wennie's logic was that she couldn't bring herself to step back and realize that doing without and ignoring the offers of help was only going to make her life all that much harder.

* * *

The alarm began to buzz at 6:30, and as routine, a pale hand shot out from the covers to slam down the snooze button. The form in the bed shifted under the blankets before a mess of blond hair peeked out the top.

Wennie groaned immaturely as she willed her body to sit up in the bed. She had gotten about five or six hours of sleep roughly, but she felt like she could sleep for two days and not feel rested enough. The odd thought entered her mind, suggesting that she call in sick like the other girls tended to do, and Wennie would have done it if it weren't for the stack of bills that sat on the end table.

"Why I set them in a place that they greet me each morning is beyond me," she muttered, dragging herself out of the bed and to the shower.

She hopped out of the shower before the bathroom got a chance to get steamy and moved to dress. There was one thing about her work that she liked a lot, and that was the uniform. In place of black slacks and a set of colorful polo shirts with the embroidered business name on them, her place of work was built more around a theme than any specific rules.

Steampunk.

For people not familiar with the area, the notion of a steampunk-themed restaurant was ludicrous, but it was a weird part of San Francisco. The eclectic design and ambiance of the establishment set it apart from the numerous Boston-accented pizza places or the east-Asian cuisine where some were backed by Jamacian cooks. There was nothing wrong with these places of course, but for tourists, families, or couples that wanted something more than the "take-out taste", options were not as abundant. To make it more appealing to the local artsy crowd, the owner took a step back in time with his desire to make the place sophisticated, yet bring a fantasy world to life.

When Wennie had applied for the position as a waitress, she had inquired about uniforms. Her new employer told her that as long as it was comfortable for her to work in, modest, and fit the theme, she could get as creative as she wished. The good thing about this was that she could begin with distressed clothes tailored to her owner's ideals until she could afford to purchase more suitable pieces to work with.

That had been six years ago, and in that time she had learned enough to sew to build her own designs. There were a few pieces that she had to purchase, however, because she could not make them for less and be as sturdy. It had taken three months, but she had finally tracked down a corset designer that would craft her ideas and not want to bedazzle it with raunchy lace and bright colors. Some old jackets she had bought on a thrift haul were cut and refitted as short boleros, and an old pair of boots she picked up were remade with scraps of leather and brass metalwork in various places.

Wennie twisted her hair into a bun and applied a small amount of makeup before leaving her bedroom to go to the kitchen. She didn't have any classes today with Bernard but she was pretty sure that he'd come in during his break just to smell her breath to see that she ate some of the leftovers. He was a good friend, but an odd one.

With her bike tucked under one arm and her purse on the shoulder of the other, Wennie double checked to make sure she had everything before locking her place. She was leaving early enough that traffic wouldn't be too big an issue to weave through on her bike, but only if she hurried.

Outside, the day was looking to be another hot one as she climbed onto her bike and started off. Thankfully, her work had good air conditioning to combat the dark clothes she was wearing that day. It was only four blocks over from the apartment, and the restaurant stood out like a beacon with its brass and bronze sculptures set before the brick front. Overhead was an antiqued sign that read "Cogs and Coins Restaurant" in a gold typewritten font against purposely aged wood. The outside was fairly simple in decoration, but inside it resembled an upscale Victorian tavern with its shiny hardwood floors, dark cherry wood furnishings, and various art pieces that lined the walls.

Wennie steered her bike into the alley between the restaurant and the adjacent building to enter the side door reserved for employees. Her boss allowed her to stow her bike in his office where a lockable cabinet was set up for all of the employee's personal effects. Setting it carefully against the wall, she extracted her waitress' apron and tied it about her hips, double checking to make sure she had her notepad and pens ready for the day. It would be a long one with a double-shift, but at least she had a small break between and a little padding in her paycheck.

"Hey Wen-wen," a cheery male voice greeted her as soon as she left the office. "You ready to pull overtime today?"

"Not exactly, Gene, but I can't turn down the extra hours."

Gene was one of the cooks on staff, but the only one that would head out onto the floor with the food if the waiting staff was short handed. He was the only one out of them that had the boyish charm to handle grumpy, hungry customers.

"By the way, Bernard has a bone to pick with you."

"Moi? What'd I do?"

"It's what you didn't do, according to him," Wennie said, referring to her meager meal the day before. She sighed as she went to retrieve an abandoned basin that was left on a booth. The place was officially open, and one of those airheaded girls had gone off and left the dirty silverwear in plain sight!

Gene took the basin of silverware that Wennie had in her hands to take into the kitchens and propped it against one hip. "If I recall," he said with an air of sass, "You were the one to shrug off the plate I intended to make for you, babygirl."

Before Wennie could say anything, he had turned and left her, disappearing behind the swinging kitchen doors. "Yeah, well you can't eat when you're on the job," she grumbled, turning to clean up another booth that hadn't been touched. "And I'm _always_ on the job..."

* * *

While the hours across San Francisco were just beginning for the day, in many other places across the globe the day was either well underway or drawing to a close. For many, that meant wrapping up the day's work to return home, settling down for the evening meal, or turning in for a night's rest before doing it all again the next day. However, there were some that pushed against this routine, continuing to work long into the hours of the night if it called for it.

Computers were booting up into their operating systems, the fans whirring with the command to keep the internal devices cool for their owners. Web cameras and microphone headsets were being plugged in and set carefully over delicate pairs of ears while the few that occupied the room settled into place. The one to work the computers opened the desired program, checking all of the connections before logging into the service. On the monitor screen displayed at least six other screens, each with a set of faces staring back into their respective cameras silently.

"Is everyone here?" The host asked.

"I think so," another voice said.

"Pretty sure," came another, followed by a succession of nods.

"Good," the host spoke again. "What news do you have on our...project?"

"Well the biodegradable bags are really-"

"He means the _other_ project, you fool!" This voice happened to elbow the other speaker, which was seen on camera as a slightly delayed image.

"Right, sorry," the first voice replied to the host. "You know you really shouldn't hit your husband, melleth-"

Another figure on another screen sighed. "We are here to discuss the whereabouts of my daughter, not observe a lovers' spat," the male growled.

The figures that were previously arguing now looked sheepish. "We're sorry," the female replied. "And I mean about the search too, Haldir. We haven't had any luck with the search at all."

This time the host was the one to sigh, almost in a defeated way, as his hands reached up to finger comb his hair out of his face. This was the way it had been for years. Since they arrived in what weathered spit of land that was once the Gray Havens in what the mortals termed the late 1800s, it had been a struggle. First, they had to integrate into society; learn the customs, the language, and maintain the facade of being mortal as wave after wave of pestilence crossed the lands. It involved moving every decade until the lifespan began to lengthen, and then it was every few decades. They adopted new mortal names and personas, sometimes swapping identities for lack of inspiration.

The plan had been simple. Sail to the Gray Havens, make way for the lands of Arda, settle as mortals and search for their missing kin in the shadows. But nothing is ever that simple, they learned, having nearly raised suspicions twice during the first World War. Time had passed without slipping up, but this came with a lack of leads as well. The technology of this period was highly intuitive compared to their predecessors, but it could only do so much when you had no shred of evidence to work with.

"We will find her, ion-nin," Miraear said as she placed her hands on her sons' shoulders comfortingly. Tauriel silently nodded when her brother locked eyes with her.

Several sets of faces appeared guilty with the former queen's words. It had been at least three centuries with no evidence of the Valar restoring the fëa of Ithilwen into a mortal form, despite the declarations of the deed being completed. Of course this span of time was like the length of a month for an elf, but for one that had been yearning to find their mate it felt that much longer.

Legolas removed his fingers from his hair and stared into the camera. "Where are all of you now?" he asked.

"Haldir and I are in New Zealand," Morwen said.

"I'm down here in Rome with Finkle and Dinkle," Glorfindel grinned as he heard the twin's protest their nicknames.

"We're in Atlanta, Georgia," Melda said, motioning to Silima and Fiona. "I don't know about these two but I want to get out of this city! The traffic is insane!"

"Galion and myself are in a hotel just outside of Fresno," Thranduil answered.

"Fresno?" Bernard asked. "You should come through San Francisco and help me then!"

A regal voice broke through the chatter in the "conference" room. "I am sure that we will find Ithilwen soon enough, young prince. Do not give up hope on finding my granddaughter."

"Of course not, my Lady," Legolas told Galadriel sincerely. "I have come too far to lose sight of my life and soul. Forgive my dejectedness, for I am just exhausted."

"Then you should rest," Celeborn said. "All of you should rest." Before the couple left the room, he eventually asked how to properly log out of the room, because Galadriel had gotten onto him for just mashing the power button the last time. The wireless connection that had been set up in the Gray Havens was shoddy at best given its location, but Fiona was able to instruct her grandfather through the steps slowly as everyone else bid their brief farewells for the night.

Legolas closed out of the program once everyone else had signed out. Miraear and Tauriel had left him to his thoughts and to prepare some tea. He stared at the darkened screen sadly, wishing above all that he at least had a picture of his mate to look at. All that he had to keep him going was memories, but lately the only memories that have wanted to surface have been the last ones before her passing. He could still see how fragile she looked in the large bed, feel the coldness creep into her skin to overpower what was once so warm to the touch. He could see the burial plot they had built where the few other ones were situated, recalling how the light breeze of the sunny day had brushed the petals of the flowers he placed on her grave.

"I need you, melleth-nin," he whispered, feeling the dull ache in his chest. "I just want to see you and know that you are here, alive and well..." At that moment he didn't care if she still had no memories of him or their life together. He just wanted his Ithilwen back in his life somehow.

* * *

"Wennie!" Amber, one of the hosts sped past her in a rush to return to the front of the restaurant. "You've got two on table seven!"

Wennie nodded as she gathered a couple of menus on her way, briefly stopping to check on her customers at table four on the way. It was the lunch hour rush, and like most days it was busy, but today appeared to be a madhouse. She swiftly dodged a rambunctious child darting out in her path, smiling understandingly as the child's parent apologized profusely for their behavior.

When she reached the table she went into autopilot mode, setting a menu down before each person. "Good day, gentlemen. My name is Wennie and I will be your waitress today. Can I start you both out with something to drink?" She had extracted her notepad and pen as she spoke, ending with the "service with a smile" smile to hide how tired she was already.

However tired she may have been, the smile nearly faltered as she really looked at the two gentlemen sitting at one of her tables. The one on the left sported long platinum blond hair that hung delicately about his shoulders. His eyes were a very light blue that were accentuated by dark brows. He had the very air of a commanding person, and even if he wasn't wearing a tailored business suit, Wennie would have pegged him for being a leader. The man beside him was also wearing a tailored suit, but in place of blond hair, his was a chesnut brown and his eyes a darker blue. 'Business partners?' she wondered. 'Liberal arts professors maybe?'

"I will have a glass of Guilhem Red," the blond man spoke, breaking Winnie from her thoughts. Even his voice had the echo of a commanding officer to it, and he was speaking very kindly too; she could only imagine what his temper was like!

"I will have a cup of coffee," the brunette said warmly. "Black, please."

"More power to you, sir," Wennie laughed lightly. "I can't drink mine without cream or sugar!" She pocketed the notepad, excusing herself to place their order of drinks while they looked over the menu.

* * *

Returning shortly with a glass of wine and cup of black coffee for the table she silently dubbed the "long haired-business friends of Jesus", Wennie took down an order for an eight-ounce steak meal for the blond intimidator and a shrimp scampi plate for his companion. It was only after her departure that the two men began to converse, once they were certain their waitress was out of earshot.

"My lord," Galion whispered across the table, "Do you believe that is-"

"I do," Thranduil said before his assistant and friend could finish. "I would recognize that face anywhere, though it pains me to see that she has no recollection of her heritage."

"Can we be sure though?" Galion pressed on. "This young woman looks so different from the princess!"

It was true. The princess Ithilwen had longer blond hair that was not streaked with splashes of blue and green. Her ears had been pointed and untouched, whereas this woman's were pierced up the rims with metal. Her blue eyes sparkled unhindered, while their waitress sported a pair of dainty frames. The clothes were different, make no mistake, but the once-king could tell in his heart that he had been waited on by his daughter-in-law.

"We will keep this information to ourselves for now," he said seriously. "I do not want to raise hopes on a hunch."

Galion nodded. "Understood, my lord."

"In the meantime," Thranduil looked out across the restaurant to observe its peculiar decoration. "We must secure more stable accommodations than hotel rooms. It appears that our stay in San Francisco is...shall we say, extended?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N: **Sorry to keep you guys waiting on this chapter! I know a lot of you that followed me here from Call Me Maybe are probably in withdraw-mode, and I am too! I got so used to working on that one that now that I'm on this one it feels so strange. Okay, so this basically sets up where everyone is, or almost everyone. More of the previous cast will appear in the next chapters I think, and this one's hopefully moving quicker as well. I know my pacing was slow at the start of Call Me Maybe, so I'm working on all the feedback I've gotten. ;) I'm also officially a Night Owl now at WGU, and that's pretty cool. I've got the next couple chapters outlined, so between studies and work I'll take it a piece at a time! Lemme know your thoughts - I love to hear them!


	3. Chapter 3

The following day, Thranduil and Galion reappeared at Cogs and Coins during the lunch hour, coincidentally being attended to by Wennie. It was another busy day for the restaurant, and while Thranduil did not get to engage in much conversation with their waitress, he was able to observe her from a distance.

Despite being human, his daughter-in-law had managed to immerse herself fully in the local culture. At first he had been appalled to see that she sported dyed streaks in her blond hair, but on their return to the hotel the previous day he had seen far more ostentatious decorations on the body that made her look tame. Then he had internally cringed when he counted the metal rings that pierced her rounded ears. That was a concern he would have to keep in mind when her body began to change to its true form. Would she be in pain? Would she keep the piercings? He hoped not, and he couldn't begin to imagine what his son would say if he could see her.

Galion had still wanted to alert someone in their group - anyone - of their newfound discovery, but Thranduil would not allow it. He wanted to be absolutely certain that this was their lost princess before making any declarations. The smallest of leads in the past that led to dead ends had left Legolas morose for days. There was no way he could do that to him, not that he was doubtful of himself. He was sure that this was Ithilwen, but he wanted to get to know the woman she had become in her time here before he subjected her to the rest of the group.

On their third visit to Cogs and Coins, they were seated at another table and greeted by another waitress, this one named Olivia. This young woman had been behind the bar during each of their previous visits, but she recognized these two gentlemen as Wennie's "Long-haired Business Friends of Jesus". Apparently they also tipped generously to boot. Without being asked, she answered the question that hung in the air as she refilled their glasses of tea.

"Wennie's got an early World History class today," she said. "She won't be back in to work until tomorrow morning on a double-shift."

"She attends school?" Galion asked casually.

"Oh yeah, a lot of us do. I myself just finished enrollment in community college for computer science. I don't see how Wennie does it though." Olivia shook her head. "I have trouble going part time on a normal semester; she's been taking two courses this summer and working extra shifts!"

"I would have assumed this establishment was adequately staffed," Thranduil commented dryly.

Olivia laughed nervously. This one put her on edge when he talked. "It is...normally. We've been short-handed lately because some of our waitresses have left for medical reasons. Wennie's been a blessing to come in anytime she can to help. Oh, excuse me! I'm rambling!" she laughed again, excusing herself as another table called for their bill.

Galion watched as the young woman flitted off to her duties. She was a good-spirited one. She would do well in life. It was when he turned back to see his former leader scowling at his phone in hand that he knew things had changed. "Something on your mind, sir?"

"What did she mean by a 'normal' semester, Galion?"

"I believe she was discussing in terms of the academic curriculum. Many higher learning schools base a semester around a number of months, sometimes offering accelerated terms during the summer months for highly sought classes. These summer terms are more fast-paced than a normal term and require the student to learn the entire curriculum in a much shorter time."

"And my daughter is volunteering for more labor at the same time," the once-king murmured. "She was always a headstrong elleth, believing she could strike down anything she encountered."

Galion had to admit that this was not the king he once knew that was speaking, for Thranduil was not openly enthusiastic about this particular elleth when Legolas had first introduced her. He watched as his friend began to press buttons on the phone with his thumb, wondering what he was up to.

Thranduil held the phone to his ear, not noticing the raucous noise that echoed through the restaurant as the line began to ring. This idea would likely be a mistake. It might even be thought of as jumping the gun, but a small part of his brain told him to make this call.

"Hello? Adar?" A sleepy voice answered on the other end. Galion was thankful for his gifted hearing as he heard the voice of the prince over the line.

"Legolas," Thranduil greeted his son as he spun his unsused fork in his free hand. "I have news for you."

"If this is about the pretzel bun sandwiches, you can buy those here-"

"I found her."

Galion wasn't surprised the prince didn't respond. He was likely in shock, if he wasn't still trying to comprehend his father's words.

The response came moments later, clear, earnest, and serious. "I want to see her."

"That would be a bad idea, ion-"

"I want to see her."

"She has not made the transition yet, Legolas. She does not even recognise myself or Galion-"

"I want to see her."

"We are not even certain if she had begun to regain her memories at all!" Thranduil stated firmly. "It would be most unwise for you to appear here before her claiming to be the husband she does not remember!"

When the line went silent again, Galion sighed and finished his tea, motioning silently to Olivia for their bill. He knew without words that Legolas was most likely crushed.

"Have...have you spoken to her?" Legolas' voice sounded far less demanding.

"We have." Thranduil found himself nodding, only to catch himself in the foolish act. He had teased Galion about nodding at the drive-thru speaker two months prior and now he was doing it! "She is attending college, Legolas, and she is a waitress. Galion and I are here right now, but she is in class." He added this last bit quickly in the chance that his son asked to talk to her. "We have not spoken much, but give me time, ion."

"You'll look after her, won't you?"

"Of course, what kind of father do you take me for?"

"I remember a time when you were furious that we were courting-"

"That is in the past, Legolas." Thranduil shot a look at Galion, who had begun to chuckle at that moment. "We will watch over Ithilwen and help her where we can. I will keep you informed."

When Thranduil hung up the phone, he sighed as he retrieved his wallet. Galion shook his head. "Let me take this one, sir."

"Then I will leave the tip for the young woman."

Galion knew it was pointless to argue verbally, but just to piss his friend off, he added his own tip to the concealed bill folder. The young waitress called Olivia would surely be surprised when she collected the folder.

* * *

"You know, I'm beginning to suspect that you gentlemen either like the food here a lot or you have ulterior motives for asking to be seated at one of my tables personally."

Galion smiled warmly as Wennie placed his meal before him. "Merely the joyous light that you bring into our lives with your services, my dear."

Wennie couldn't help but giggle. These two long-haired men were very kind each time they visited, and she had been told by Olivia when she returned to work that they were very generous to her as well. She liked talking to these two men, because aside from outward appearances, they were very different from many of the locals. Their manner was more fluid and calm, and she found it relaxing to speak with them.

"Might you know of any places available to rent in this area...Wennie?" Thranduil had almost slipped again and said 'Ithilwen', but he struggled to say this mortal name because it was too...wrong. It was all wrong and he didn't like it.

If she noticed the pause, she didn't acknowledge it as anything more than him struggling to keep a name to a face. "Well," she began, "if you're looking for something within a budget there's the apartment building where I live, Shady Hut. It's over on West Main. It's not a four-star place, but it's affordable for most people. Though, I'm not sure if there are any vacancies, but the landlord would be able to tell you about other lodgings."

"You are not familiar enough with the residents to know of such information?"

Wennie shook her head. "I spend most of my days either at college or here, and when I'm not at either place I'm on my way here, there, or home. My schedule lately hasn't left me much time to-"

"Waitress!" A rather rude man called from four tables over. He was a portly fellow who had already emptied half of the -most likely alcoholic - beverage before him, and was not embarrassed to blatantly wave the server over. Deciding that his voice wasn't good enough, he then began to snap his fingers as he stared hard at her through squinted eyes.

Wennie turned back to face Galion and Thranduil, muttering a quick apology before slipping a piece of paper onto their table and rushing off. Galion reached over to pick up the piece of paper, stating that it was the address to the apartment building she had spoken of, but his lord was too busy observing the rude customer to notice.

As much as she apologized to the man for her tardiness, which to Thranduil did not seem that bad, the large man continued to berate her for her "incompetence". He tossed around insults against her as if he thought they were simply criticisms, and with each one Wennie would stand there and smile, nodding in agreement. Why should she agree with him? The concept of the customer being right was not valid when the customer was tearing down the employee when he had not been ready to order a minute before! If this had been back when he could exude his power over others he would have this man locked in his dungeons for a century. Or until he went mad, whichever came first.

After the order had been taken, Wennie turned and moved towards the kitchens. As she turned, and for the briefest of seconds, Thranduil had seen the true expression come out in her eyes. Exhaustion, sadness, overall hurt, it didn't matter how it was described. She, nor any other server in this establishment, deserved the kind of treatment that she had just received. They didn't speak again as she slipped by with their bill, but he left a note written in his delicate handwriting for her to find.

"_My dear, do not feel that you should be subjected to such treatment as I witnessed earlier today. You are a kind soul that does not deserve to be misinterpreted as "incompetent" or "worthless". Sadly we cannot eliminate the fools from the world today, but always remember that there are more who would give warm words than harsh ones. You are a superb waitress; that is why my friend and I choose to be seated at one of your tables."_

* * *

"This is by far one of the most reprehensible things you have ever done, my lord!"

"Do not forget that you are with me, Galion."

"I am beginning to believe that I am a masochist for punishment!" the brunette hissed under his breath. "What if we're caught?"

"We won't be."

Galion was right, he knew, just as he knew how wrong it was to spy on others. He couldn't help himself though. After speaking more with her before the rude interruption, he had become concerned over her method of travel through the busy streets of San Francisco. After they had left Cogs and Coins, they returned to the hotel just down the street to put in a phone call to the owner of the Shady Hut apartment building. Following that, Thranduil had come up with the plan to follow Wennie as he saw her pass by on her bike. They traveled by foot, having left the rental at the hotel. It was far easier to keep a safe distance from the girl without being noticed or detained by the laws of traffic.

They knew the location of the college that she attended, simply because it was the nearest in the area, but her destination eluded any guess he could have made. She had told them that she was always busy, and the route she was taking led away from the apartment building and the college. Furthermore, why had she stopped to buy flowers?

The pair continued to track her movements through the city and to its outer limits where the traffic thinned considerably. Thranduil knew they were coming up on the borders of the rural neighborhood, which made hiding slightly more difficult. While they doubled back to take cover behind a snack food delivery truck, the bike glided off the asphalt and along the concrete walkway that opened into a gated area. Both elves followed the direction with their eyes, scanning this space for any form of identification.

"Tranquil Eternity Memorial Gardens and Cemetery," Galion read. "The name is a bit strange for the purpose, isn't it?"

"Are you surprised?" Thranduil had taken off along the sidewalk before Galion could respond. Part of one of his questions had been answered just by following Wennie this far, but he was still confused as to why exactly she was visiting such a dreary place of mourning. The Valar had pretty much told them that she would be born into this world completely alone.

The elves followed the concrete path under the guise of visitors looking for a particular headstone, but their real destination lay further ahead, where Wennie was setting her bike against the nearby fence edge. Thranduil led Galion to a large statue within clear hearing distance of the young woman, settling onto the bench that was provided.

"Hi Mom," they heard her say softly to the air. Mom? How was this possible?

Thranduil had been nearly ready to voice the endless questions going through his head until Galion motioned to keep silent.

"Okay," Wennie sighed, laughing slightly at herself. "I know this is ridiculous, and I know you'd think it was too if you were here, but... I don't know, I guess it just helps." As she spoke she arranged the flowers into the provided vase, removing the previously withered ones. "You'd tell me to move on and stop talking to a granite headstone. And I will...just...I need a little more time, okay?

"College has been a trip," she continued, sitting cross-legged in the grass. "I'll have my degree in May if all goes well. I know you'd be happy about that, even if I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. I've got a few friends in school and work, so I'm not entirely alone..."

Peeking around the statue to make sure she wouldn't notice them, Thranduil leaned around to study the headstone Wennie was speaking to. It appeared the woman's name had been Angela Pearson, born in the early March of 1947 and died only seven years ago. Beneath that, it mentioned that she was a "beloved mother and daughter". The once-king motioned for Galion to do a search on his phone for any information as Wennie continued to speak.

"...and work is going well too. Most of the time, anyway; there's always a few nasty customers." Wennie smiled then, recalling the note that she had found when she did a sweep of the table her newest regulars had occupied. Once again, the tip had been startling, but the sweet note that had been laying on top of the bills had made her tear up. She pulled it out of her pocket, unfolding it to read again silently. "There's these two new guys that have started coming into Cogs and Coins recently, and according to Amber they keep asking if I'm there with each visit. It's weird. Normally I'd find that creepy, but... I don't know, it's like these two ask for me like I'm something special! I don't do anything different than the other girls, but whatever I guess. They're really nice and fun to talk to, and the tips are always a shock to find.

"There's...there's something else I wanted to tell you about, Mom." Wennie tucked some loose hair behind her ear and licked her lips. "I've been having some strange dreams lately, and I think they're trying to tell me something about my birth parents." She winced visibly, almost like she were ashamed to say such a thing. "I know, I know you said that you'd help me search for them if they were still alive. I know that. I know that you wouldn't be upset if I had come to you to ask for help either, but you've got to understand that you're 'mom' Mom. You took me in when no other foster parents would, and I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you did for me."

She paused to rub the salty trails from her cheeks, and if Galion hadn't stopped him in time, Thranduil would have ousted them for certain.

"I don't know what these dreams mean," she continued, sucking in a breath to calm herself. "I just know that I don't want you to think I'm going to betray you if I go looking, wherever you may be now. You're always going to have a place in my heart, Mom, whether I find my birth parents or not." She slowly climbed to her feet and dusted her legs off. "And if I do meet them one day, I'll remember what you said. 'Act like a lady and politely ask them why they left me'. I've got to stop by the store before I go home. I'm going to use some of the tip money I earned this week to get some food to last until payday or Bernard will have a conniption for sure."

Both Galion and Thranduil had to shuffle around the side of the statue to avoid being seen as Wennie passed by on her bike. Thranduil watched her leave sadly. "Little one, if you only knew," he murmured, thinking of how distraught Haldir and Morwen would be to learn that their daughter believed she was abandoned. He may not have been thrilled in the beginning with the idea of their bloodlines coming together in marriage but he knew without a doubt that they would never abandon their child!

"Sir, I have some information on Angela Pearson."

They began to walk out of the cemetery with the intended plan of going back to the hotel. "Go ahead."

"She was one of the administrators at a Shady Oak Orphanage until her retirement, which coincidentally, is where Lady Ithilwen was discovered. The woman claimed her as her own legally, leaving what possessions she owned to Lady Ithilwen. It seems that she became very ill at the turn of the millennium and slowly went downhill until her death seven years ago."

"This Angela has no living kin?"

"None alive, save for Lady Ithilwen, more or less."

Thranduil sighed. "Morwen was right. The child really is alone in the world." The walk continued on in silence until they passed the same delivery truck. Then a low growl emanated from the taller elf, making Galion turn his head in surprise.

"Sir-?"

"There's been a change of plans," was all he said.

* * *

Writing a paper on a Friday night was not how Bernard saw his evening going. To make it worse, it was concerning the fall of the Aztec Empire, needed to be at least eight pages, with five cited sources that no two could come from the same source or source type. Given that it was a broad topic, they were required to create a specific thesis, and naturally he had selected a topic that was giving him the same three results in any academic database search. He had been considering changing his thesis to something more searchable when a hard knock came from his dorm room door.

It wasn't his roommate, because he had said any work he had due could "get stuffed" cause he was going out to a keg party. Bernard knew he'd be back on Sunday in a panic, begging for help as always.

Reaching for the door, Bernard barely got it open and avoided being hit with the backswing when whomever was on the other side barged in. He was about to respond to the sudden intrusion when he heard the deep voice, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Would you care to explain to my why you neglected to tell any of us - especially my _grief-stricken SON_ - that you had located his reincarnated wife!"

Irritated at being accused of hoarding something so critical to their search, Bernard let the door slam shut as he spun on his heel to face a very angry Thranduil and slightly concerned Galion. "Perhaps you'd like to explain how you come to know that!"

"So you do admit to hiding my daughter-in-law!"

"Hiding would entail that she would be locked in a building! Clearly that's not the case, is it!"

Galion chose this moment to intervene, stepping between the two elves. "Both of you need to calm yourselves," he said gently. "This building may be filled with ear drum-busting noise tonight, but you both can still be heard. Veryamorcon," he continued, looking to Bernard, "we happened upon Lady Ithilwen when we stopped to eat at a restaurant. We followed her this afternoon to a cemetery, so please do excuse my lord. He is still rather unhappy with what little information we were able to glean."

Bernard didn't need to be told about Wennie's past. "Why didn't you just ask her yourselves?"

"It would have been counterproductive to the cause."

"And spying on her wasn't?!"

"Galion-"

"You know my feelings on this afternoon, sir."

Thranduil growled in frustration as he paced the room. Galion sat down on the far bed while Bernard returned to his desk. "She has been alone for too long!" he protested. "You are her kin, and you kept this information from us! From her parents! From her mate-!"

"I wasn't about to say anything until I knew for sure that her memories were beginning to return!" Bernard countered. "I have done the best I could to watch over her without her suspecting anything since we met four years ago! Do you know how much that would hurt Legolas to find out she's been found and doesn't remember a thing?"

"Actually, I do. I took the initiative and told my son three days ago that we had found her-"

"And you're jumping down my throat?!"

"Fighting about this is getting us nowhere," Galion interfered again. As much as he wanted to avoid this conflict he realized it was probably better that he came along. "What matters now is that we stick nearby so that we can be there for her when her memories do start coming back."

Thranduil looked to the dark haired elf at the desk. "Has she spoken to you of any dreams?"

"No, why?"

"When we observed her in the cemetery this afternoon, she mentioned dreams that she thought had something to do with her birth parents. She didn't elaborate however."

Bernard shrugged. "It could be anything, then. Finals are coming up in about two weeks. She could be stressing about those already. Now if there's nothing else that you need to interrogate me on, I have an Aztec thesis I need to revise before Monday."

Galion rose from his seat and followed Thranduil to the door. "And this probably goes without saying," Thranduil added. "Legolas didn't take the news well. He was ready to fly over here."

"I'm not surprised."

"We'll be vacating our hotel room shortly, so call the cell if something happens."

"Of course."

* * *

During the night, Wennie was having another one of her strange dreams.

In the past when it was crunch time just before an important event, such as a final exam, Wennie's stress would accumulate to the point of boiling over into her resting hours. On most times she was witnessing accounts of large buildings burning to the ground, likely a symbol of her fears of not being prompt.

Then there was another dream that involved stopping in her bedroom door, only to find that her room was covered from floor to ceiling in arachnids of all sizes, and she couldn't scream. She took this to mean that she was afraid that if she asked for help outright, she would either be ignored or told to "suck it up".

Finally, one of her most memorable dreams began doing a mundane activity - brushing her teeth. Something compelled her to stop and lift her top lip up, curiously. It was illogical and impossible given the construction of the human skull, but in her mirror's reflection she could distinctly see the bone holding the top row of teeth sticking out of her gums. She felt no pain, and oddly it didn't terrify her in the dream, not even when she reached up to "pop" the bone back into the opening in the gums. What this had to do with anything was lost on Wennie, and not even her dentist could explain why she might have experienced such an event on her next checkup.

But these dreams were like a walk in the park. In fact, it was almost like they _were_ in a park. The area was widespread and very serene, but the trees were larger than anything she had ever seen in San Francisco. These looked like they had lived for thousands of years. In a rare moment she would see lights that gave off a soft glow to the area, which make the long fabrics and loose hair she saw float by even more magical.

When dawn approached and her alarm once more made its existence known, Wennie reached for the small notebook she kept in the drawer of her side table. It was once a private journal that she had written in once every eight months for a grand total of two entries. She then turned it into a dream journal, finding she could get more entertainment out of rereading old dreams and decoding them. The beginning pages were well-written and coherent to someone not familiar with her, but the most recent...

Notes were scribbled down hastily, either trying to preserve them or in a hurry for work. Small drawings were also scattered in the latest pages, depicting some of the scenery she had seen, along with what she assumed were rings crafted with an insane amount of detail...

"This is ridiculous," Wennie muttered to the room. "I'm thinking way too much into this when I should be getting ready for work."

Dropping the book into the drawer after she added the latest details, she went about her morning "work" routine; shower, dress, style hair and makeup, put something in the stomach, and check the purse to make sure she had everything. The tip money she had used at the grocery the day before allowed her to buy some actual breakfast food. Frozen toaster waffles obviously weren't the best choice, but it was quick, portable, and they were on a "two for three" sale. She even splurged and went for the round waffles instead of the bulky square ones that never heated through all four corners, no matter how many times they were turned.

Wennie shoved the last mouthful of toaster waffle in her mouth before grabbing her bike and going out the door. She was so busy focusing on making sure she had locked her apartment door that she nearly ran into a large stack of boxes that almost filled the floor's landing.

'Oh. Guess I got new neighbors across the hall,' she thought. 'How bout that.'

Then a familiar voice echoed behind the boxes that caught her attention, and soon enough the voice revealed itself to be the long, dark haired man that she had come to see as a table regular. The man was looking down the steps and therefore didn't see her until she steered her bike to rest against a portion of unused wall. "Oh, hello my dear! Fancy seeing you around these parts!"

Wennie closed the distance to meet him, returning the handshake he offered. "It's good to see you and your colleague found a place!" she said warmly, noticing that the taller blond man had nearly crested the flight of stairs with another set of boxes. "It looks like you guys are just moving in. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Thranduil took one look at the young woman and knew that she was offering to help even when she was supposed to be working. Had her situation been any different and she had the free time, he might have accepted. "We will be fine," he assured her. "From the looks of things, it appears that you are heading to work, correct? We would not wish to keep you from your work."

Galion had since slid some of the larger boxes on the landing into the apartment to free up space so she could get by. He was just coming back to collect the boxes Thranduil held when she spoke again.

"Yeah, well if I didn't need the money so bad I'd take a "sick" leave like most of them decide to do," she half-joked. "So I guess I'll be seeing you two later today...er...is there something I can call my two new neighbors?"

The brunette chuckled at her question. Not once had they introduced themselves to Wennie, which left her to greet them as "Hey new regulars", or something similar.

"I am...Thranduil," the once-king said, surprising his friend. Wennie had looked slightly confused until he walked her through the pronunciation, and for her credit she picked it up rather fast.

"And I am Galion," the attendant replied.

"It's nice to put names to faces, Thranduil and Galion," Wennie smiled. "Interesting names too. They sound very...old world to me."

"You have no idea," Thranduil muttered under his breath.

Wennie didn't seem to pay him any mind, moving to retrieve her bike after shaking each man's hand once more. "I've got to to get to work, but it's great seeing you guys. Congratulations on getting the apartment, and wicked cool that we're neighbors! You two will have to come over some time so we can get to know each other better!"

A final wave from the woman and she had disappeared down the twist of stairs. Only after Galion felt she had gotten far enough away did he choose to question his lord. "Was it wise to give her our real names?"

"I believe so. After all, she did say that she wished to get to know us better. Were those not her exact words?"

"Yes but-" It was the predatory grin that crossed Thranduil's face that stopped Galion mid-sentence, knowing in an instant that what Wennie had suggested was a bad idea.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N:** It just occurred to me tonight that I've only outlined about half of chapter 4, so I'm going to get back into planning out the next few ahead of time so I know where I'm going. It gets you guys updates faster in the long run!

So now Legolas knows Ithilwen's been found, and as he put it, by the one person who didn't care much for her when he first met her! That'll be explained in time though. And we got to "meet" Angela, her foster-mom. There was never any intention to keep her alive because I felt like that Ithilwen needed to experience loss to really appreciate what she'll gain. I'm also an evil writer for doing this, but what's the saying, "things get worse before they get better"?

Oh yeah, there's a name you might not have caught, "Veryamorcon". I'll go ahead and tell you that's Bernard...or at least its his name translated into Elvish more or less. It won't be used often for obvious reasons, but you will see it again in later chapters. ;)

Those dreams - you know the _weird_ ones - those are real and I have dreamt them, even that tooth one. *shudders* Let me know what you think - Was the pacing too fast? Did you like it? Hate it? Wonder what the hell is wrong with me?


	4. Chapter 4

"I cannot believe how far I have fallen, Galion. I was once a ruler of an entire kingdom!"

The brunette resisted the urge to sigh. They had only finished moving in their belongings earlier that morning after their encounter with Wennie, and the last of the delivery men had recently left with after depositing stacks of boxes in the living room. He honestly expecting his friend to begin complaining sooner.

"Look at this!" Thranduil continued, gesturing wildly to their environment. "This room alone isn't even the size of my bathroom back home! The kitchen could fit in the pantry - with room left over for the bathroom! The price of this apartment is far too high for what it's worth!"

"Sire," Galion fell into formalities just to irritate him, "A month's salary could buy the entire building-"

The noise of disgust the king made was rather unkingly. "If that is your attempt at a joke, it failed miserably!"

Galion only grinned, but then his look turned serious as he addressed him again. "You'd do it for Ithilwen, wouldn't you?"

Thranduil was silent at first. "She deserves better than this," he said. "Much better. She _has_ better! She just..."

"Just doesn't know it yet," his friend finished for him. Galion was pleased to hear in his friend's tone that the soft spot the princess had once burrowed into him for her eccentricities hadn't worn away. For a while he had grown concerned that with the lack of clues in their search, his disposition towards her would have reverted, making it that much harder for the girl when she began to remember.

Producing a box cutter, the brunette waved it towards the stack of boxes occupying their living room space. "Might I suggest we begin to put together the rest of the furniture? It could do you some good to feel like you've accomplished something."

Thranduil took the offered tool and slid it through the wide tape on one box end. "The only thing I have managed to accomplish is keeping my son away from here," he said as he pulled the narrow end of the box open. "I don't know how long that will last, however."

Not having the patience to individually remove each piece from the box, Thranduil hefted the box into the air and upended it, spilling the contents out into the floor in a loud clash of panels, bags of fastenings, plastic sheets, and instructions. Shrugging his shoulders, he tossed the box across the room to land behind their couch. Galion had been watching silently as the pile of construction pooled between their feet. "Can you do that again with the next box?" he asked seriously. "I imagine your wife would find it most amusing if I could get it on video."

"Only if you can refrain yourself from making those 'that's what she said' comments while we work," he muttered distractedly, squatting down to search for the instruction booklet.

"I can't make that promise, my lord."

"I didn't figure you would." When Thranduil could locate the guide, it took him several attempts just to locate the proper language. "Elebreth help me," he groaned, "They really are 'Tab A' and 'Slot B' instructions!"

"That's what-"

"I will throw you back to Valinor, Galion!"

"And then how would you function without me?" his friend grinned. "Do you even know how to put together these kinds of cabinets?"

The silence that followed proved he did not.

"And I suppose you do?" Thranduil looked to him almost hopefully.

Galion took the booklet and skimmed the diagrams, brow furrowing. "Actually I do not," he stated, only for the booklet to be yanked from his hands as the king swatted him with it. "We are elves, however! We should be able to figure out mortal construction!"

It took them two hours to put together one bookshelf.

* * *

How was it logical for the faculty, knowing that the term's students were in the middle of preparations for their final exams, to blatantly tell them "You need to drop everything you're doing and meet with your adviser - _now_" in reference to registration for fall classes? Wennie never thought much of it in her first years, but then she hadn't had as difficult a time balancing her schedule then either. Now she was beginning to think that the faculty just didn't give a shit.

Naturally, her adviser was a finicky person to catch on a good day, and any of the available times she had checked in to book were filled once she had gotten ahold of someone. This left her with two options; she could miss a day's pay and go talk with her adviser the next morning, or she'd have to wait until after her exams were over, when the adviser would have time slots available for "last minute" appointments. The answer was a no-brainer. She'd rather get the exasperated look from her adviser for "waiting so long" instead of getting dressed in the dark, because the electric company wouldn't have been as sympathetic.

Had Wennie's schedule been normal, she could have easily explained herself, but when every waitress starts dropping shifts out of the blue that becomes harder to justify. "I'm sorry but I really need the money" wasn't something she could outright say. Given it was summer, wedding fever had taken off in spades, and the girls at Cogs and Coins were all going on honeymoon simultaneously it seemed.

Well, everyone but Wennie.

The restaurant being cut down to a few waitresses for the entire day meant she was working longer so the already married could leave to take care of their children. It was like her high school reunion all over again, except this time she was required to stay.

Wennie couldn't help it. She began to feel resentful of all the happy couples that came into the restaurant, even the embarrassed parents that couldn't get their children to behave. It's not that she wanted to jump on the wedding bandwagon, just that she felt like she had a gaping hole in her chest that nothing she was doing was filling. But then, how would she juggle a relationship right now? She could barely keep her eyes open in lecture some days, and when she wasn't studying she was working to pay the bills that seemed to tack on more "required" fees each month. She lacked any cute clothes for a date, and at this point she was pretty sure she'd accidentally server her date their meal out of habit.

As she ended the call with her adviser, who had sighed dramatically at another late-case, she groaned. Perhaps the Fates were conspiring with her school to keep her stressed.

* * *

"I want to speak with her."

"What did I tell you?" Thranduil sighed over the phone. "I said no."

"But she is my mate!" came the response.

"She doesn't know that!" the older elf's face was pinched in frustration. Ever since Legolas had been told that she had been found, he wanted to get to her. At the very least speak to her over the phone, which was understandable, but Thranduil could only imagine the terrified expression on the girl's face as some stranger began to pour declarations of love unto her all the way from Scotland. He had yet to even tell her about his son. There just didn't seem to be an appropriate time to bring the conversation up, and she was stressed enough.

"Listen to me, ion-nin. Galion and I have only been around her for a few weeks, and in these few weeks I can see why Bernard was so apt to withhold this information from us-"

"He knows?" Legolas asked confused. "And what do you mean by 'withheld'?"

From the small kitchen Thranduil could see Galion shake his head as if to say 'You're on your own, sire' when he looked to his friend for assistance. "He has been watching over Ithilwen since she began her course of study in this city. They started in the same year, and he has gone out of his way to become her closest friend."

There was silence from his son, and Thranduil couldn't be sure if he was plotting revenge against her kin for this discrepance or something else. When he did choose to speak, he had turned the subject away from the other ellon. "How is she doing, if you won't let me speak with her."

"She is doing rather well, Legolas. Her studies are proving fruitful, even if she does not believe so. It appears that discussing her lessons with us helps to review the material. There will be examinations at the end of the week, and naturally she is quite stressed about them."

"Ithilwen will do fine," Legolas said with pride. She was very bright in her studies as an elleth; he had no doubts that she would far exceed her own expectations.

"I know she will," Thranduil agreed. "However, she is also anxious about her place of work. The young women in the establishment have chosen to take their vacation time at the worst possible moment, putting her one of the few with extra hours to fill. Rest assured, I have seen her at the busiest of times, and she can handle the stress."

Legolas still didn't like the thought of his mate working as a waitress, but Thranduil told him she enjoyed interacting with the customers, who for the most part were quite friendly. As their conversation carried on into the afternoon, he told his son that she was beginning to speak to him and Galion about the strange dreams she was having. All involved in the discussion knew of what the woman spoke, but they couldn't tell her that she was regaining fragments of her former life.

From her descriptions, it wasn't much more than bits of landscape and the occasional artifact or cloth revealing itself to her before she woke. Still, it was more than any of them expected, and it was a blessing for a desperate mate to hear.

The only thing concerning Wennie that Thranduil never mentioned to Legolas was the current living arrangements of his mate. He never told him how she dressed in hand-me-downs, nor how she spent her waitressing tips to buy highly-processed groceries for cheap. He didn't tell her that she was wearing her mortal body down physically as she struggled to keep her apartment and sink further into debt as she attended school.

From his standpoint, it looked as if her entire world could fall apart around her, but she never brought attention to her problems. It was a trait that he respected, but it also drove him mad.

* * *

"Come get a cup of coffee with me." Bernard had said. "We can go over our work." Bernard had persuaded.

So why was Wennie sitting in the small business coffee shop being given a list of online video channels to watch in her free time?

"I thought we were supposed to be discussing our work?" she ground out before taking a sip of her coffee. "The biology final is _Friday_, Bernard. I'm still struggling to keep the specific phases between mitosis and meiosis straight."

Bernard held up two spoons. "Mitosis is like the production of these spoons, right? The machine that forms the spoons is like the parent cell that produces the identical "daughter" cells." He set them down and gestured between himself and Wennie. "Meiosis is different in that only select cells can go through this process. Me and you - we're different-"

"Obviously," Wennie snorted into her cup.

"That's what I'm getting at!" Bernard huffed. "Pretty much all cells can go through mitosis, but meiosis is used for reproduction, since it scrambles the genetic composition of the parent cells to create something entirely new. There's similarities between the parent cells and the "daughter" cells, and they both have distinct characteristics as well." He leaned back in his seat smugly. "There, we discussed. Happy?"

"I still need to study." She frowned.

"Just remember what I said and you'll be fine. It's multiple choice anyway, so you will be able to narrow down all the wrong answers."

Another person approached their table, setting down a small dish of freshly baked cookies. "Thought I'd bring these myself," the new voice said. "So how's the finals-prep going?"

"Unorthodox, Thia," Wennie grinned, looking up at the young woman.

Thia was another college classmate, a nursing major that had been debating on going back for dental study after graduation. She was quite peculiar in appearance, but Wennie found her sense of style refreshing. Her hair was a dark brown with bright streaks of aqua and pink; it had been her that talked Wennie into her current dye job. It suited her tanned skin and only made her violet eyes pop out brighter than they normally were. She was one of the employees under the elusive Nicholas Nordic, an older man that held the reigns of a small toy store as well.

Wennie had never seen him, but she had been told by Thia that he knew all about his regular customers to the coffee shop. That was how there were always freshly baked chocolate chip-walnut cookies waiting whenever she visited. Creepy or not, they were good cookies!

"Is Bernard here messing you up?" Thia teased.

"I am not!"

"Oh you know I'm joking!"

Bernard mumbled something into his mug as Wennie focused her attention on the bohemian-dressed woman. "I think it's just my nerves," she said. "Come the day of the exam I probably won't have anything to worry about once I see the questions."

Thia smiled. "You shouldn't have any problems, Wennie! You're way smarter than you give yourself credit for; you just need to take study breaks or you'll burnout!"

"That reminds me," Bernard spoke up again, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a folded slip of notebook paper. "This is for you."

Wennie took the paper and unfolded it, brows furrowing in confusion as she read the contents aloud. "What is this, B? 'Danisnotonfire'...'Grav3yardgirl'...'Good Mythical Morning'...'We Four Girls'...'Leighannsays'... Tell me this isn't a list of code words for the types of bacteria or something..."

Thia snorted and tried her best to hide it, but Bernard had no issue with laughing out loud at her inquiry. "They're video bloggers, Wennie," he told her. "These are the names of the channels they run."

"And why are you giving it to me?"

"To watch! You do have periods of time when you're not in class and you're not working-"

"It's called being asleep-"

Bernard groaned. "You know what I mean. Just check out some of their recent videos when you feel you need a break. I'm telling you that you'll enjoy them, and it'll help clear your head."

The bell at the shop's entrance rang as a couple entered, dressed for their shift with the required hats and aprons. Thia noticed them first and flagged them over. "About time you two got here! My shift's almost over and I wanted to go see the new flower shipments Mister Aster got this morning!"

The light blond woman smiled apologetically. "Sorry Thia, but I've been having problems with getting Jack to wear the hat-"

"I think it's ridiculous-"

"It's a baseball cap, Jack!"

"Exactly! I am not tossing hotdogs at Rigley Field!"

"It's blue! Be satisfied with that!" The woman turned and took notice of who sat at the table Thia was standing beside. "Hey you two! How's biology going? I'm taking that next month so I want to brace myself."

"You'll find it easier spread out over sixteen weeks instead of eight," Wennie told her honestly. She had been about to elaborate when Bernard asked the new pair if they had any recommendations for video blog channels that she could look into.

"Pewdiepie definitely," Jack said. "I got a kick out of the Slenderman ones. Esther here nearly hit the ceiling..."

Esther shuddered. "But which one? There's so many." Wennie noticed that she also sported a sparkling engagement ring. Of course she had been told weeks ago by the younger freshmen that Jack had proposed, but any plans to marry would be arranged only after both graduated from college.

"I guess I'm going to be kept busy, huh?" Wennie asked the group, trying to ignore the slight sting she felt at seeing another happy couple before her.

* * *

Bernard knew it was coming. It was expected, after all. Once the father knew the secret that he had kept from the family for the past few years, it was only a matter of time before the son would come to call upon his doorstep as well. Luckily, Bernard had the fortune of it being a phonecall instead, thanks in part to Thranduil's orders for him to stay away.

He had been asleep when the prince called, the horrid ringtone jarring him awake. His roommate Chris was already awake and moving around their dorm room. "Hello?" he said, not paying attention to where the call was coming from.

"You knew." The words were laced with fury that the dark haired elf couldn't blame him for.

"He told you," Bernard said instead, now more awake. "Look, like I told your dad, I had my reasons-"

"You still knew-"

"And I wanted to tell you, believe me!" He watched as Chris searched all around his bed for a clean pair of jeans, clad in of all things Spongebob Squarepants boxers. The blond man found one pair, and to Bernard's horror, sniffed the jeans before deeming them acceptable and pulled them on. Apparently as long as they didn't make their way to the communal washing machines on their own they were 'clean'. "I wanted to tell everyone for years about this, but I couldn't! Do you know how hard that was!"

"I know how hard it was to spend agonizing centuries waiting for my mate to be reborn, only to find out from my father that you have known for years about her whereabouts," Legolas seethed on the other end of the line. "Do you know how hard that was?" he mocked.

It was only after Chris left the dorm room with his pile of laundry that Bernard let loose. "No, I don't know, Legolas!" he said truthfully. "My mate is alive and well! I'm a great sod that has held the information about his cousin's existence from her mate and her parents for so long that I think I've developed and ulcer from the stress of not being able to say anything! But do you want to know why I haven't said anything, Legolas? Do you?! It's because I couldn't even tell her of her past life! She doesn't know anything! She doesn't recognize any of us for who we really are to her! How do you think I'd feel if I said 'Oh and by the way Ithilwen's alive but she doesn't remember you'?! I can't imagine what it would do to you if she were to meet you and treat you like a complete stranger!"

Bernard was up and moving around the room now as he shot off his excuses in rapid-fire. "I'm sorry, Legolas! From the deepest part of my heart and fëa I am sorry! Believe me, if you were in my place I would probably be riding your ass for not telling me you found Melda!" He paused to take a deep breath. "You have to understand, I was afraid to hurt you more by telling you sooner than later. I fully intended to come clean when she began to remember things, but that idea's been shot."

On the other side of the line, Legolas had been listening intently to the shorter elf unleash everything he had been holding in. He was still pissed to be honest, but from what Bernard was telling him, it seemed Thranduil had already covered every point. "I haven't told anyone else yet," he finally spoke. "I've made sure Adar will not as well, but at our next check-in I expect you to tell Haldir and Morwen. They need to know."

"I know," Bernard sighed. "And I will." He slumped down onto the edge of the bed. "Would you like to hear about how we met?"

Legolas' voice perked at that. "That would be nice."

"Now keep in mind we've only been...friends...for about four years, and I'm still learning about her second childhood, so she'll be the one to ask about that stuff. I think it was the freshmen move-in week that we met. At the college campus there were events being held through the week for newcoming students to help get them acquainted with everything. I had just finished moving the last of my stuff into my dorm room, so I was taking a walk around. When I saw Ithilwen, I knew it was her. She was looking around the courtyard for the library I think, and that was how I introduced myself. I told her I was a freshmen as well that was still learning the locations, and we toured the campus together. We were even lucky enough to share a couple classes together that semester, and from then on I tried to sign up for at least one class with her so she wouldn't be alone."

"Does Ithilwen live in the dorms?"

"Nah, she's got this small apartment near her work and the college," Bernard chose not to go into specifics on said apartment, since he had laundry to do as well. "Has your dad told you she goes by 'Wennie'?"

"I...did not...know that."

"It's short for Winifred," he elaborated. "It's the name her foster mother gave her, I learned, but she always called her Wennie. And before you ask, she passed on before I met Ithilwen, though she tells me that the woman took good care of her."

"Morwen will be pleased to know that then." A thought struck Legolas then, and he had to know. "Where does my adar and Galion reside, Bernard?"

"He didn't tell you? They're living in the apartment right across the hall from Ithilwen!"

Bernard was surprised that he didn't hear the laughter from Europe even after he hung up the phone, but it seemed that his discrepancy was forgiven with this piece of information.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Wennie returned to her apartment, and to her fortune, it seemed that everyone had turned in for the night. She had no qualms with her new, curious neighbors, but she didn't want to have to explain that she was required to stay late and help clean after closing. She felt bad enough that Bernard waited up to take her home, especially since he had a history final that called for a decent amount of sleep.

Shucking her bicycle to an empty corner of her living room, she unzipped her boots and toed them off, beginning to shed layer after layer of clothes as she walked to the bedroom. Stripped down to her underwear, Wennie debated on whether to keep the bra on a little longer, deciding immediately that it had to go. She pulled on a soft pair of sleep clothes and walked back to the kitchen. Bernard had reminded her to watch at least one video before she went to sleep, and knowing him he'd probably have a quiz prepared just to make sure she listened. And since she was going to be up, she might as well find something to eat.

"I really have to go to the store soon," she mumbled, searching her cabinets. "I'm even out of ramen noodles! How the hell does anyone run out of those things!?"

Rooting around in the fridge proved to be a little more successful. Inside Wennie found a small amount of taco-seasoned ground chuck that wasn't much good for one taco. She also spotted the last pinch of lettuce, a smidge of cheddar cheese in the back and a jar of salsa, but she was out of tortilla shells. She pulled these items out anyway and set them on the counter, tapping her chin. Her stomach had decided that it wanted this arrangement, but she needed something to hold it all together. Upon doing another sweep of the cabinets in hopes of finding a bag of soft shells that had magically appeared, Wennie squealed in delight when she found a third of a bag of fritos. She pulled the chip clip off and tried one of them. Near-stale, but with stuff on them they were more edible.

Minutes later Wennie had dumped the taco meat, salsa, and cheese into a small bowl and heated it in the microwave. She shredded the good bits of lettuce and dumped it in the bag, adding the lumpy, red-orange concoction from the microwave next. It looked a mess but it smelt wonderful, and that was how she justified eating what she called the 'garbage frito taco'. Wennie rolled the bag down like a shirt sleeve and grabbed a fork. The way she saw it, the less dishes to wash tonight, the better.

With her late-night meal propped on her thigh, she booted up her laptop and opened her internet browser, clicking the video site bookmark. Perhaps it was the lack of socialization on her part, or that she was always studying or working lately, but she had never heard of video blogging before. With this video sharing website, she always assumed that it was filled with home movies that had been transferred from older media or video of bulldogs riding skateboards.

She told herself that she would watch two videos from each channel on her list before she went to bed. That would give her time to eat, relax, and hopefully get sleepy. Starting with 'Danisnotonfire', she found that these vloggers were nothing like what she expected.

This young man's videos were scary-accurate in some points, but the culture shock was evident when she went to the next channel. This young woman was located in Texas and made more facial expressions than Wennie had ever witnessed one person make in the span of ten minutes. She found she enjoyed the videos where infomercial products were tested, and even if it was disappointing that many didn't work, the tests alone were worth watching. Next came a duo whose logo looked like a fire-breathing chicken in their latest season. These two seemed to have done a number of internet challenges, including eating the elusive ghost pepper. After watching the tall man try to punch the wall after biting into the pepper, she moved to the next channel.

The channel 'We 4 Girls' was straightforward in its name; it was one channel hosted by four young women who all worked at a company and did the videos for fun. There were the occasional inspirational videos, one or two directed at something that called for a rant, and some that were the types of things that most vloggers filmed. Given that she couldn't find two recent ones that featured all of the women, Wennie watched a third as well. The brunette and the redhead of the group participated in the Chubby Bunny challenge, and the redhead kept pulling faces with each addition, making the brunette laugh more. The strawberry blonde uploaded a video days ago about the things she considered her favorites for the previous month and what she liked about them. Finally, the other blond did a makeup tutorial on a light-and-frosty themed look for the Christmas season.

Having long-finished her mishmash of leftover food, Wennie got up to toss the empty bag in the trash when she saw that it was almost 2:30 in the morning. Wincing, she allowed herself to watch only two more videos before going to sleep. She'd have a late class thankfully, but she still had to cover a shift before and afterwards. With that she selected one from the 'Leighannsays' channel about everything she currently carried in her purse. For the other, she watched the first of the multipart series of 'Pewdiepie' playing Outlast.

The next time she saw Jack she was going to get him for making her spit her soda across the room because of his suggestion. It was bad enough that she feared she had laughed hard enough to wake the rest of the building. It was worse that most of the soda came up her nose.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N: **It's been a lot longer than I expected with an update, and all I can say is that I haven't been good. I hit a major funk in July that made me just not want to do anything, and when the inspiration came back I had my first exam (which I passed!). So I'm on my second course now, juggling it, work, class webinars, and this story of course. The next two chapter outlines are written, and I'll get on those quickly.

By the way, any guesses about the 'faceless' girls in the web channel? You've seen them before if you read the other story. Also, how do you think the pacing is going with this story? Is it moving too fast? Too slow? I don't see it being *as long* as Call Me Maybe; maybe half the length. Since I'm not following the same path I took with the other story I guess it just seems faster. As always, you guys are the best, and if you've got anything you want to say about the story comment and tell me!


	5. Chapter 5

"Attention! Attention! This meeting of the last Eldar in New-Middle-Earth is now in session! Please rise for our esteemed leader-"

"That doesn't get any funnier the longer you keep doing it, Fiona," Legolas growled through the conference room.

The strawberry blond's image wrinkled its nose. "What's up with you today? You get your panties in a bunch or something?"

Tauriel appeared on screen then, leaning over Legolas' occupied chair. "You know my brother doesn't wear unde-"

"No way! I thought that was just a joke!"

"His father's the same," Miraear chimed in from Legolas' other side. "Neither one has the patience when it comes to-"

"Can we change the subject?" Thranduil demanded. "This matter is not of anyone else's concern-"

Celeborn felt obliged to remind the former king. "Was it not yourself that said that we all were now family on the day of your son and my granddaughter's binding ceremony?"

"That does not mean we share details of what we wear-"

"-Or don't apparently-" Elrohir muttered.

"-underneath our clothes!" Thranduil finished. "Don't think I failed to hear you Elrohir."

The dark haired ellon shrugged, not at all fearful of his safety while the woodland king was so many timezones behind him at the moment. "But in support of what he said, why are we meeting now? I thought our schedule had been set for the rest of the year?"

"Things have changed," Legolas said simply. "And I believe Bernard is the one best suited for explaining."

The lone elf sitting in his dorm room gulped as if everyone was physically there. Legolas had outed him and gave him the floor to confess. He really hoped Haldir would be merciful...

"Legolas is right," he swallowed, trying to find his courage. "The thing is... I found Ithilwen...almostfouryearsago."

There was a pause in the connection as everyone not privy absorbed this information, and once it sunk in, there was a clamoring of voices. Some asked how she was, others asked why he didn't say anything sooner, but the two people he was most concerned about were his aunt and uncle. In the small window, both appeared to be in disbelief, looking on as if they could see him to confirm this. Given the length of time in their search, it was understandable to be skeptical, and the ellon did not feel the least bit offended as Thranduil came forward as a second witness.

Morwen had begun to cry, hanging onto Haldir's shoulders. The marchwarden had looked more his actual age than normal, which was startling. For so long they had to wait for any scrap of news concerning their daughter, and he had known for damn near four years. In four years he could have done something besides observe and shadow her. He could have nudged her in the right direction and sped up the process-

"Or you could have pushed her away, Veryamorcon. Your decision was wisely chosen."

"I don't think I will ever get used to your abilities, Grandmother," Bernard smiled. "I appreciate the encouragement, but it doesn't make me feel any less guilty about holding it in for so long."

The noise of the conference room had begun to quiet back down, and many of the webcam screens were filled with concerned faces that begged to ask the question: 'Where do we go from here?'.

Legolas reclined back in his seat and stated, "Bernard, Galion, and Adar are watching over my mate for the time being, and I trust them entirely with any matters that should arise. As for the rest of us, we will continue on with our mortal guises as normal. When Ithilwen regains her memories and chooses to see us, we will go from there. I will not force her into doing anything she is not prepared for, even if it may kill me to not see her."

Miraear patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I know you're speaking figuratively, Legolas, but if you scare your naneth like that again I will not hesitate to tan your hide," she told him sweetly. "I don't care if you are a married ellon."

"While we are speaking of marriage..." Celeborn began, drawing the attention away from the veiled threat of the woodland queen, "...can someone explain why four married ellith are carrying on like younglings without regard for rules?"

Again, the room fell silent as many of them tried to figure out what Celeborn was saying. It was Melda that answered, breaking the quiet with an exclamation of "Oooh! That's our company video channel!"

"What?"

"Yeah," Silima added, "It's mostly the four of us filming video blogs about all kinds of things."

"It is a way for them to goof off," Legolas clarified.

"Is not!" Tauriel retorted. "It's good promotion for the company!"

Legolas looked at his sister. "And how is a video about stuffing marshmallows in your cheeks and mumbling 'Chubby Bunny' any kind of promotion for environmentally-friendly products?"

"It shows that we're down-to-earth. Let's the people know that we're approachable and friendly, unlike a lot of big corporations."

"Speaking of videos," Galion broke in, "Would a video of our king putting together a bookcase be worthy of going viral?"

"I had it under control, Galion."

"Did he swear?" Miraear asked interestedly.

"Like a sailor working for Cirdan," the attendant replied with a grin.

Glorfindel, who had been unusually silent during most of the meeting had to make his interest known then. "I don't care if it goes viral or not, Galion - send me a copy of that video!"

"I had it under control," Thranduil stated again, this time with more force.

"Sir, you upended the box and dumped everything out like a child-"

"Please don't do that with my granddaughter, Thranduil," Celeborn teased.

For once the king groaned out loud. "Everything is under control!"

* * *

"How do you manage to do anything at this school?"

It had been on a whim for Wennie to ask her new neighbors if they wanted to come with Bernard and herself to the campus bookstore. She passed them on the stairs and threw out the invitation out of politeness. She didn't think they'd follow her!

"It's...uh...interesting." Bernard really had no words to describe the four-year school's orientation week. In the hopes of getting first pick of the textbooks they'd need, the pair decided to arrive the first day the bookstore would be available to charge. However, this meant weaving through the hundreds of new students, their families, and the numerous campus activities to draw out student participation. "You'd be surprised how quickly you can get used to a new place like this," he told the two elves.

"I can only imagine," Thranduil frowned. Ever since he had stormed Bernard's dorm room with Galion at his side, he had been spending time researching the particulars of this college to determine if it was good enough for his daughter-in-law. The academia was well enough, as was the graduation rate, but he was reconsidering those numbers as he watched a mass of new students be herded by one of the volunteer staff from one building to another. With his excellent hearing he could tell that some of the parents weren't ready to let go just yet, some of the students were nervous, and another portion were gossiping about the weekend parties.

Wennie pursed her lips as they reached the entrance to the bookstore. The four had been waiting in line for at least twenty minutes just to get into the store. Campus officers were directing traffic inside while the bookstore employees bustled about with book lists while the ladened-down students struggled to follow. "You know you two don't have to wait in line with me and Bernard," she said distractedly. "It's going to be a lot of waiting even when we get inside. If you think this line is bad, waiting to checkout can be worse."

Thranduil looked down at the blond as she fiddled with the book list and her student ID. He happened to overhear her talk with the receptionist at the foldout table upon entering that she'd be cleared to charge her books to her financial aid account. It was clear that she was relying on federal assistance to go to school, because a waitressing position - even with overtime - could barely pay tuition for a term, much less books. Was she embarrassed to use this method of payment? He didn't see why she should be. Her high marks on her summer exams just showed that she was making every red cent worth it.

"Don't be silly, my dear," he told her. "I am patient. I can wait."

Galion coughed into his hand as Bernard grinned. "You're son is more patient than you," he blurted out quickly.

Before Thranduil could admonish Galion for his words, Wennie looked at them. "You have a son?" she asked.

"I do," he nodded lightly. "As well as a daughter. My wife is with them both presently."

Wennie nodded. "That's neat. How old are they, if you don't mind me asking?"

Thranduil wanted to tell her straight up their ages, but she'd take it as sarcasm. "About your age, I would wager," he told her instead. "How old are you, out of curiosity?" The closer they could pinpoint her age to the elven equivalent, the better. Especially before Legolas is even in the same country with her. While he was sure his son was patient, he wasn't certain that he'd be able to control himself once he saw her again.

"I'm...well..." Wennie shifted her weight on either foot. "I'm...34...according to my birth certificate. To be honest when I was a baby my foster mom had to have all of this stuff created, since I didn't have records for anything when she found me."

"She thinks she's older than she is," Bernard told the other elves knowingly.

Wennie stuck her tongue out at him as they entered the bookstore. "I'll have you know that I look good for my age - whatever it really is!"

* * *

Since the arrival of her new neighbors, Wennie's life had become anything but mundane.

Whenever they would meet in the hallways of the apartment or Cogs and Coins, they'd exchange light conversation about general life, but then it progressed to personal background information. There was more than one time that she felt she was giving more to this conversation than Thranduil or Galion, but she wrote it off as a shyness, and that they would open up about their lives in time. When neither one was asking about how her childhood events, the topic of discussion was about how she was doing in her current classes.

Talk about school were typically held over weekend takeout dinners delivered late at night, since they always seemed to be awake when she returned from work. These talks eventually turned into invitations out around town on her days off from school and work. While minimal at best, these were days that Wennie looked forward to, she was surprised to discover one night before bed. It was a nice change from her routine, and it was pleasant to talk candidly with her neighbors. How it happened, she had no idea, just as she couldn't believe she was already labeling them as friends after so short a time of meeting.

It was at the end of August when Wennie was just beginning to get into the swing of her school schedule in relation to her work schedule. The overtime had slacked off, but she still took on extra shifts when she was able.

Unfortunately her routine was about to be changed for the worse.

"Guys, this decision did not come easy for me, but I have to do what is best for my family. I wanted to let you know that by this time next month you'll have a new manager to take my place."

The outburst from the employees was expected. Their manager, Terry, had been there when each of them arrived with their job applications, and over time he had become an integral part of their "work family". Finding out that he was leaving to better support his family was reasonable, but it didn't mean they wouldn't miss him.

"Who's this new guy?" Gene asked, crossing his arms.

"I can't say for sure," Terry replied. "Vick told me that he'd be coming in from New York, but that's all I know. When I know more you will."

"He'd best not mess up our routine," Olivia pouted. "We've got a system that works! The business could suffer if it's changed!"

This brought out more murmurs of nervousness and speculation. Terry gestured for the group to quiet down before he spoke. "If in the event that the new guy decides to make changes to Cogs and Coins, keep in mind that it might be for the best. Vick said that he'd studied extensively the way businesses around the world work, so give him the benefit of the doubt?"

Wennie chewed her lip in silence as the gossip bubbled up again around her. While she had no doubts that Terry was giving them encouragement, she couldn't help but feel a wave of trepidation the more she thought about a new boss, even if Vick, their founder, had personally selected him.

That evening when she returned home, she was never more glad to see Galion on her way upstairs, and even moreso when he invited her over for a late dessert. The prospect of brownies and unloading her worries on a pair of friendly ears never sounded so good.

* * *

By the start of September it has become a habit for Galion or Thranduil to walk in Wennie's apartment at a moment's notice. It was a testament of how much she had come to welcome them into her life the day they exchanged spare keys. The only other person before them that held a spare was Bernard, and that was only after a year of getting to know each other. She couldn't figure out what it was about these two men that made her feel secure in this decision. Perhaps it was the fact that she saw them as fatherly-type figures as well... But of course Thranduil was a father. He had told her that he had a family back in Europe that he missed greatly. She never pressed for names, assuming that if he wanted to tell her he would.

Wennie discovered after exchanging spare keys with the two men that she was seeing differences in her apartment. It started out with the piles of notes she had left on the coffee table being stacked neatly and in order of course competencies. Then there would be nights she would return from work to find that either man had taken the care to retrieve her mail for her. These things she didn't mind. She knew that if the roles were reversed she would gladly step in to help her friends out with the little things.

However, the one thing that was the tipping point of being friendly was the gradual filling of the kitchen cabinets.

It hadn't slipped past her that instead of takeout on weeknights she was being ushered across the hall to have dinner with Thranduil and Galion, courtesy of the later's cooking skills. While it certainly beat the frito-taco concoctions or ramen noodles she had been resorting to making more often it was also richer than what she was used to. Yet she took it as a kind gesture and could only find compliments for the meals, even if she'd have to loosen her ties on her corsets if this kept up in frequency.

But there she stood in her kitchen, eyeing the kitchen cabinets with suspicion. Just a week before she could see the back wall in each of them clearly; now she was lucky to get them closed properly. Wennie wasn't sure if she found this appreciative or insulting. On the one hand it was a kind thing to do for someone, but on the other hand it was basically telling her that she couldn't take care of herself, and she had always been about self-sufficiency. While she didn't know much about their place of work, she knew they must have been well-to-do based on the tips they left when they ate at Cogs and Coins. But still - a third thought kept creeping up that asked if these two men were putting themselves into debt with these gestures of kindness. It was unlikely, but her brain had a habit of over-analyzing any situation if left to fester.

Wennie shut the cabinets and groaned. She was a responsible adult, dammit! So maybe she couldn't afford the best groceries right now; at least she was feeding herself!

"Knock knock!" came a cheerful voice as her apartment door opened. She didn't bother to turn to see Galion and Thranduil enter her residence casually. "Tonight, dinner will be served here," the brunette beamed at Wennie as he entered the kitchen.

"Good, you can use up the groceries you put in my cabinet," she said sarcastically. "Look, I really appreciate the thought, Galion, but I can get my own food. I don't expect anyone else to do it."

"But that's what friends do!" he protested as Thranduil moved to sit at the small kitchen table.

"I guess, but-"

"It is what _we_ do for our friends," Thranduil stated firmly, motioning for her to join him at the table.

Wennie sighed. "You two sure know how to make a girl feel lousy, you know that?"

"How do you mean?" Thranduil asked.

"I mean this!" Wennie waved her arm at Galion moving around her kitchen. "Y'all come in here and take over my kitchen! Buying me groceries!" She sighed, slumping down in the chair. "You have to realize I'm used to doing on my own, and if I can't get something, I do without until I can."

"You have friends, child. Do not think you have to do everything yourself," Galion chided.

"Sorry," she mumbled, feeling like a scolded child, even though neither had raised their voice to admonish her. "But believe me I would do the same for you if I could!"

Thranduil nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket. "I know, Wennie." He retrieved a small, flat device and slid it across the table to her. "I am in a bit of a predicament," he said lightly. "I was in need of a new phone the other day and found myself in possession of more than I require. Since Galion has a new model, I can think of no other better that deserves than yourself."

Wennie stared from Thranduil to the touch screen phone in front of her and back to him. "Are you trying to pawn a phone off on me? What's going on, really?"

"I couldn't help but notice that the phone you possess at the moment is rather outdated..."

"It charges, it takes calls and it makes calls. What's outdated about that?"

"It has duct tape holding the battery cover closed!" Thranduil pointed out, making Galion chuckle. "You cannot expect it to last forever!"

"You're right. I don't," Wennie told him. "But I would deal with that nightmare when I crossed the bridge."

Thranduil's hands went to cover his face as he groaned in misery, mumbling about how today's youth was more stubborn than his wife. From the kitchen, Galion could be heard chuckling still as he prepared water to boil for the pasta. Wennie only pursed her lips and watched the blond man overreact.

"I don't understand why you're so concerned, Thranduil," Wennie continued. "Believe me, I appreciate the sentiment and everything, but I'm an adult. I supposed to take care of these things myself-"

"Are you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, I am!" she shot back. "I may not be working at a huge company but I would like to think that I'm doing pretty damned well considering!"

"I suppose if you can call putting yourself into an eternal debt of student loans on a waitressing salary 'well'-"

"That is not your concern!"

"Of course it is my concern!"

"Why!? Why is this such a big deal to you?! Why is anything that I am doing or not doing so concerning to you, Thranduil?!"

The escalating argument at the table made Galion turn from his sauce preparation and observe the unfolding. There was no way he was going to step in the middle of it, obviously, because either side would end up angry with him. Thranduil would question his loyalty if he took her side, and Wennie would be suspicious. If he stood by his friend and king, she would likely turn on him as well, thinking him an invasive parental figure. Okay, that part had a smidge of truth to it. He had after all snuck in food to stock her cabinets while she was at school or work, and tonight he had purposefully taken over her kitchen to cook her a meal.

"It concerns me because you are my daughter!"

Galion winced visibly, and not because Thranduil had raised his voice to echo through the apartment. He had broken his own rule by outright telling the girl an important piece of information she had yet to discover for herself. Looking over at Wennie, he could see a number of emotions cross her face, but shock seemed to beat out the rest.

"What do you mean," Wennie swallowed, trying to find her voice, "by calling me your daughter?"

Thranduil, having realized his mistake moments before, had his elbows resting on the table edge with his face buried in his palms. "That was a miscalculation on my part."

"I'll say."

"You misunderstand, Wennie." He looked up at her again, and she could see how visibly tired he was. "When I called you 'daughter', I do not mean that you are blood kin to me. You might commonly recognize the term 'daughter-in-law'."

Wennie watched Thranduil to see if this was some kind of joke they had planned, and getting no response she turned to see Galion watching from the stove. "Is this...true, Galion?"

Galion didn't confirm or deny the statement. "Perhaps it would be best for you to start from the beginning, old friend," he told Thranduil instead. "Explain things before jumping to such a shocking piece of news." Then he returned to his work, putting his back to them.

Looking back at Thranduil, Wennie leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I think the beginning would be best, if you don't mind. I mean no disrespect to you, but I'm pretty sure I'm a virgin, so being told I'm married isn't something you can just spring on me without warning."

Then Thranduil smiled. It wasn't a big smile, just one that recalled memories long past. "You always were one for details," he said.

Thranduil knew that what he was about to say was going to get him into hot water with about half a dozen people. The question was not a matter of when it would happen, but who would get through the melee to get to him first. It was no matter; what was done was done, and perhaps it might even work in their favor.

"You have told us in the time that we have met that you do not know your birth parents, that you have no records of their lives or why they left you. Having known them for many years I can assure you that they would never have done such a thing if it had been their decision. Wennie, the reason you are unsure about so much of your past is that it is hidden away in your mind."

"Okay, so far I've got that you know my parents, my abandonment was 'unintentional', and that I'm a forgetful yutz?"

"There was no abandonment," he corrected her. "And yes I know them. Their names are Haldir and Morwen. You are not forgetful; rather, you have suffered a traumatic experience that has left you with amnesia."

"If this Haldir and Morwen didn't abandon me, how'd I end up at the orphanage? Was I kidnapped?"

"You might as well explain everything," Galion called from the kitchen. "Otherwise it will make even less sense to her."

"I thought he was?" Wennie asked him.

"You're not human," Thranduil blurted out tactlessly.

There were very few times that Galion wanted to smack his king, but this was one of those times.

"If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck..." Wennie was looking at him weird now.

"You - We," he gestured between the three of them, "Are of another race that is not seen in this world anymore."

"We're aliens."

"No...yes...not exactly." Thranduil pushed back his long hair to reveal the pointed tips of his ears to her. "We are of the Eldar, Wennie. We are elves. A race that has not inhabited this world for many millennia because our time had come to leave for our true homeland so that the race of Men could prosper."

Wennie didn't say anything, but she stood up from her seat to move closer to get a better look at Thranduil's ears. They didn't look like a latex build, and even good theater makeup would have been noticeable at this proximity. She had tentatively reached a hand up to feel for a prosthetic seam but stopped herself, feeling that it wasn't a good idea. She couldn't place why she felt this way, but it just didn't seem...right. Or was proper the better word?

"Okay, so you don't look like one of Santa's elves. Does that mean you work for Keebler? Is that why you wouldn't tell me much about your company?"

"I assure you we do not make cookies," Thranduil replied. "Our company is built around a multitude of environmentally-friendly products."

"No, he just likes to _eat_ the cookies," Galion responded lightly. "Between him and those kids it's impossible to keep any cookies in the house!"

"Galion..."

"All I am saying is that you lot should be rolling down the stairs when you come to breakfast-"

"As I was saying," Thranduil cleared his throat. Wennie had been giggling, which had lightened the atmosphere considerably, so he couldn't fault his friend entirely. "Our homeland is an undiscovered island called Valinor. That is where this part of the story ultimately begins."

"Hang on, 'ultimately'? There's more than this?"

"Yes, but for the time being, this part of the story is crucial to your understanding. We can cover the rest when you feel you are better equipped. Now then, in Valinor, you were living a happy life as the wife of my son. You both had a beautiful house of your own, and you were both wishing to start a family. However, there was an accident. A terrible storm had unsettled one of the newest horses to be trained, and having been a rebellious spirit proved to make this task difficult for the trainers. I was told that you were caring for some younglings that day, and to protect the lives of the youngest you interfered with the rogue horse's path. You had attempted to ride the beast to calm it and get it back to its stable, but it bucked you off into a discarded pile of building stones."

Wennie could only watch the blond man - correction, elf - with dread as his story continued.

"My son tracked you and brought you to the healers, but there was little they could do to ease your pain. You had been hemorrhaging from internal injuries that could not be cared for. Later that night you passed away in your sleep."

"Oh god..." Wennie felt like she was going to be sick. "But how does that explain me being here? That sounds like a past life sort of thing."

"In a way, it is." Galion brought over a plate of garlic toast and set it at the center. "Wennie, for elves, we can only die in a limited number of ways. We can fall in battle, suffer from fatal battle-sustained injuries, or die from a broken heart. Our bodies are more resilient to injury than a mortal man's, and even a fatal wound for him could be minimal to us. It is a matter of how severe the wounds and if the body has any strength left to repair the damage."

Wennie's head was starting to spin. This just didn't make any sense. "Then how am I _here_? If I died then, how am I alive now?"

"That would be the work of the Valar," Galion cut in, choosing to stick with terms she could grasp. "Think of them as a higher power, if you will. The one that we know as Mandos, the keeper of the fallen, was the one to return your soul to an identical body."

"So the body is human but my soul isn't?"

Galion shook his head. "Your soul, or fëa, is indestructible. Had you chosen to remain in the Halls of Mandos for eternity, you would not be reborn."

"My son nearly joined you from his grief," Thranduil said solemnly. "For months I feared I would lose him as well, until your message arrived to us. You told him to wait for you, that you'd come back to him one day. Unfortunately...we had no idea that we would find ourselves in this current predicament."

The young woman frowned. She had always been pretty open to the various religions of the world, but finding out her own soul wasn't human really made her question her beliefs. Neither elf had given her a reason not to trust them, and while the more they said made sense, it was still a lot to take in. It seemed that Thranduil wasn't finished just yet though.

"As soon as we learned that you would be reborn here, in a mortal body, preparations were made to sail back to these lands. We have been searching for hundreds of years to no avail, until the day we stopped in the restaurant."

"You mean you knew you had found me?" she asked. "Why didn't you just tell me then?"

"Would you have believed us?" the king replied.

Shaking her head, she responded with "No, I suppose not. But if I'm an elf, what does that mean for me? I mean I'm mortal, round ears and all."

Galion was beginning to load down the table with more dinner utensils and things. "Not for long, my dear," was all he said before he turned away.

"What does _that_ mean?"

"Galion is referring to your coming of age," Thranduil shot his friend a look. "The dreams you have mentioned to us, the ones that you could not explain? Those are fragments of your memories. We suspect that they will begin to become clearer in the months to come."

"And what about the ears, then? Recalling what I once was is all well and good, but if I don't look the part isn't that going to be a problem?"

Neither one said anything, which only made Wennie nervous. "You have to understand, Wennie," Galion spoke carefully, "This isn't a typical occurrence for our kind. Reborn elves are usually reborn in Valinor in a natural birth. We do not know how Mandos came to acquire your mortal form, only that he could not find a suitable vessel in Valinor. Given the length of time it took to find your vessel, waiting for the usual opportunity could have made things worse. Do not think low of the Valar, Wennie, for their decisions are made only with the best interests in mind. We do not understand those reasons all the time, so we must trust their judgment."

"We do believe that as your memory returns, so will the strength of your fëa," Thranduil told her. "Only then will the vessel accommodate the soul to become a complete being once more. You will look just as you did in your first form."

Wennie nodded, then asked out of the blue "What's my name?"

"Pardon?"

"I doubt my original name was 'Winifred'," she told them. "What is my birth name?"

"Ithilwen," Thranduil told her. "It is Ithilwen."

"That sounds pretty," she commented. "I like that." She tried pronouncing it herself a couple times to make sure she got it right, smiling in satisfaction when the elf across from her confirmed her attempts. "Okay, so I know my real name, my parent's names, and how I got to be 'here'," she counted off on her fingers. "I'm still lost on this whole marriage thing though."

Thranduil chuckled. "Yes, I do believe that needs to be covered before the meal," he said, reaching into his wallet to retrieve something squarish. Sliding it across the table to Wennie, he said, "This is my son, your husband."

Wennie took the picture and flipped it over, words falling silent on her lips. The elf in the picture resembled Thranduil to an extent; long blond hair, dark brows and lashes making his already blue eyes impossibly bluer. His build was broad across the chest and shoulders, making it impossible to mistake him for a female at any angle. In short, she found him incredibly handsome.

"This is your son?" she whispered.

"It is," Thranduil nodded. "His name is Legolas." He declined when she tried to give him the picture back, telling her to keep it.

"That's...that's not possible," Wennie began to shake her head furiously. "I can't be married to...to..._him_! He's way too handsome! Why on earth would he want to be married to someone like me?!"

Galion had been draining the pasta in the sink when she said this, and turned abruptly to share a disapproving look with Thranduil. It seemed that even as a mortal she still questioned the prince's judgment about her person, so perhaps they wouldn't have as long to wait on her recovery as it looked.

"I believe that was one of your more humorous arguments," Thranduil told her. "It would always drive my son mad to know that you didn't see yourself as he does. As it stands, you both are fëa-mates. No matter what you may think of yourself, in your heart you know that you couldn't see yourself with another."

"What is a fëa-mate?"

"It is a special bond between elves," Galion told her from the kitchen. "Look at it as two halves of a whole; you compliment each other down to your very core. Some say that it is akin to 'love at first sight', but I believe that is not the case. Two elves could grow to know each other for many years before any romantic feelings are expressed. It is simply a matter of circumstance." He moved the drained pasta to a serving bowl and poured the sauce next. "Elves are particular in choosing a mate, because once a couple has been physically intimate in the highest form, they are bound for eternity. The fëar will have formed a bond so strong that it is very rare for one to be broken."

In the time that Galion had spent detailing the concept of fëa-mates to Wennie, Thranduil had retrieved the phone he had attempted to pawn off on her earlier. When Galion had reached the table, both were drawn to his silent maneuvering on the touch screen. "What are you doing?" Wennie asked with suspicion.

"Programming my son's phone number into your new contact list," he replied without shame. Thranduil slid the phone back across the table to her, adding, "Now you have no excuse not to use that phone. Legolas knows that you have been found, and when you feel comfortable speaking to him, you can do so."

"That was a dirty move, sir," Galion chided.

"My thoughts exactly," Wennie agreed.

"Why does no one question the Valar with their decisions, but they question mine?" Thranduil asked innocently. "I am doing this in the best interest for my son and daughter-in-law."

"You just conned me into taking your new smartphone!"

"Alright children," Galion sighed, "We can argue about this after dinner. Now eat up before the pasta gets cold and gluey."

Both Thranduil and Wennie sighed simultaneously as they began to eat. But before she even took the first mouthful, she shot a look at Galion. "Don't think I haven't forgotten about you, food ninja."

* * *

Some time after the dinner leftovers had been packed away and the dishes cleaned did Galion navigate his lord back to their apartment, leaving behind a very confused young woman to mull over the night's events. Normally he wasn't one to be so brash with his superior, but these were extenuating circumstances that needed to be reported. Immediately.

Thranduil knew he was screwed. He knew it the moment he admitted to Wennie that she was his son's mate. Now, hours later, he had to own up to his mistake and let a select few know. The rest would find out eventually.

Galion, having shut and locked the front door, moved to sit across from Thranduil on the couch. He scrolled through the contacts list and selected the number he was positive would answer right away. The signal rang twice before a gentle voice came on the other end.

"Hello Galion! It's pretty late there, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, my Lady, and I apologize if I have woken you...but we have a...problem."

"A problem?" the voice grew concerned. "Are you both alright?"

"We are fine, or I should say I am well. Your husband...may not be when we return home." Galion tapped an icon on the screen before holding the phone out to his lord. "You're on speakerphone, sir. Best get it over with."

"Thranduil, what did you do?"

"Melleth, it is nothing terribly serious," he tried telling Miraear. "We were having dinner with Ithilwen earlier this evening and somethings were said that might not have been said. The situation has been dealt with and things are fine."

Galion looked at him skeptically. "Do you call a near-shrieking woman 'fine' with what you told her?"

"What. Did. You. Do." Miraear's voice demanded.

"I might...I might have told Ithilwen that she was our son's mate-"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" she shrieked. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"

Galion was immensely grateful that the phone now rested on the coffee table as the former queen riped into her husband. The queen was known for her calm demeanor in almost every situation that was thrown at the kingdom, but it was also widely known not to push her past her limits. The king, knowing this even as he courted her, still seemed to find new ways of pissing her off.

"THRANDUIL I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT!" Miraear continued. Thranduil could barely get a sentence out as she kept going. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT THIS COULD MEAN?!"

"Yes, I do, but-"

"NO BUTS ABOUT IT! WHAT IF SHE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE LEGOLAS? WHAT IF SHE CHOOSES TO NOT REMEMBER HER LIFE?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN? OUR SON WILL BE ON THE STRAIGHTWAY TO THE HALLS OF MANDOS!"

"BELIEVE ME I UNDERSTAND!" He bit out quickly while she stopped to take a breath. "Believe me I know, but I do not doubt the girl's curiosity!"

Miraear could be heard sighing over the phone. It would have been early morning over there, and if the household wasn't already up they'd be getting the wakeup call soon. Thranduil sat on the couch with his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Galion got up to pour him something to drink.

"Thranduil," Miraear tried again, this time a little calmer. "I just don't want to see our son in the shape he was in after her death. I can't bear the thought of it."

"I know, love," he told her. "Please understand that I took care of everything."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her the truth. About her real parents, her real name. Galion and I briefly covered the life she lived in Valinor with Legolas. I told her of what happened, and what happened afterwards. She has some idea of what to expect, and I cannot help but feel that this could benefit the both of them."

"It would do Legolas some good to hear from her," she mused.

"That's why I gave her his number."

"You know I'll have to tell him."

"I know."

"He'll want to come over there all the more now."

"Oh I definitely know," Thranduil silently thanked Galion for the proffered drink. "There is no chance in hell of that happening, however. Ithilwen is still too far from where she needs to be for Legolas to appear on her doorstep."

"We need time," Miraear said.

He snorted, "Funny, that coming from an immortal."

Miraear laughed lightly on the other end of the line. He knew that while things sounded alright between them now, he was pretty certain that his mate would have him sleeping in one of the guest rooms when they returned, whether Ithilwen was in tow or not. The king's smile faded just as quickly as it came when he heard his son's voice ask Miraear why she was so excited so early in the morning.

"Tell him," Thranduil murmured into the phone as if he were whispering to Miraear.

There was silence between them, and in the apartment it felt like the conversation had been brought to an end, until Legolas spoke.

"W-what do you mean she knows?" Galion and Thranduil heard Legolas ask in disbelief. The king had expected some form of anger for his blunder, but not shock. "She...she knows..."

"She knows about you, but she doesn't remember you yet," Miraear could be heard telling him.

"Shit," Legolas was heard saying. "Oh gods... Oh shit... Fuck-!"

"This was not the reaction I expected, sir."

"Neither did I." If Thranduil had to hazard a guess, he would think that Legolas was pacing the room as he swore. "Ion-nin, you need to calm down. I told her everything I could to prepare her for what's to come."

"Fuck. Shit. Fu-"

"Come now son your vocabulary is larger than this."

Miraear got back on the phone as Legolas continued to swear. "If you could see him right now you wouldn't believe he does, Thranduil. He wasn't expecting this."

"Well then Legolas, you had best prepare yourself in the event Ithilwen calls-"

"Calls?! What do you mean, calls?! Is she-? Here? C-call...me?" If Legolas was honest with himself, this was something that he had yearned for for centuries. But now that the opportunity could present itself at a moment's notice, it scared the ever-living shit out of him.

Miraear could be heard trying to calm their son down, who sounded on the verge of a full-blown panic. "Yes, there is a good chance Ithilwen will want to speak with you," she soothed. "But you need to relax so that you can carry on a conversation with more than swears."

"I gave her your personal cell," Thranduil explained. "Right now it is the news of you that has her curiosity piqued. I thought it best that she speak to you first."

"Haldir and Morwen need to know," Legolas said.

"And they will," Thranduil assured him. "As soon as I hang up with you, I will call them and let them know. We'll decide where to go from there."

"Okay," Legolas said weakly, then with more control. "Okay. Thank you, Adar."

"I do my best, ion."

* * *

All night Wennie had been trying to distract herself from the things that she had learned from Thranduil and Galion, but it was proving unsuccessful. Even the horror gameplay videos from Pewdiepie and his "mannish" screams weren't cutting it.

She wasn't human.

She was an elf.

She had parents.

Parents who were looking for her.

She had a home very, very, very far away that she had never heard of in Geography.

She had memories of a life before this that she couldn't recall.

She was _married_.

That one was the kicker in the whole list of things to freak out about. Wennie had been going through the motions of daily life for weeks trying to figure out what was missing, watching couples be lovey-dovey in public and wishing for something like that, only to find out she'd already married someone!

This story blew any drunken impromptu Las Vegas marriages by Elvis out of the water, that was for sure.

Wennie glanced over at the picture sitting beside her laptop, only to lock eyes with the two-dimensional man. Elf. Male. Whatever or whoever he was, she assumed he had a penis if they had wanted to start a family together.

Then she found herself blushing without warning, but she couldn't understand why. She had never met this person in person, so it's not like she knew them. But then she apparently _did_ in fact know him, and probably more fluently than she realized at first. That direction of thinking only made her blush harder.

"Oh fucking hell," she mumbled, shutting the laptop and taking it and the picture with her to her room.

Wennie set the laptop down in her bag to be ready to go when she left for class, then propped the picture up against the alarm clock on her nightstand. As she moved around her room on autopilot she contemplated finding a frame for it on her next trip to the store. One that size shouldn't cost much, and it would ease her mind about it getting blown off the surface accidentally.

She unbuttoned her worn-down jeans and pushed them off her hips, kicking them onto the nearby chair before shirking her top. Dinner had been far more filling than she expected, and she attributed that fullness to Galions' cooking talents, so the bra was shed soon after. Now standing in her bedroom in only a pair of boxer-brief panties, Wennie stared down at herself, trying to see what this husband of hers might.

"I've got nothing," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. Looking over her shoulder at the picture she mumbled "You'd probably sweet-talk me if I asked you, wouldn't you?". Wennie knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't bring herself to develop the self-esteem most girls her age had. She knew she wasn't ugly or anything, but she just didn't find any appeal in what she had. Her body shape was naturally curvy, a striking difference to her foster mother, who was built fragile in comparison. Her hips were just slightly wider than her breasts, and while she heard that some guys liked that in a girl, she cursed silently whenever she had to go clothes shopping. San Francisco wasn't an area built to accommodate natural curves, or at least her neighborhood wasn't.

Still, as she moved around the room to find a clean nightshirt, she continued to talk to Legolas' photo as if he were actually there. It was ridiculous, but she was reasoning with herself that she was building up her courage for when she called. The question was when should she call. If she called that night it might come off wrong, but if she waited then Thranduil would be on her case about when she did plan to call his son.

Did Legolas even know that she knew? Wennie chewed her lip, now having one more thing to stress over. If he didn't know, would he still want to talk to her, knowing she didn't remember him? But if he did know already...then he'd be waiting for her to call.

"You know what? Fuck it! I'm gonna call!" she declared to the empty room, pulling on the tank top and crawling onto the bed. Wennie grabbed the phone and photo after she made herself comfortable, experimenting with the new touch screen to find the contacts list. Looking down at the picture of Legolas in her hand, she took a deep breath. "You'd best not hang up on me, pal," she murmured as she dialed.

Why was her heart thumping so hard? She never had a problem talking on the phone before, but this time it seemed like she was about to give a speech before the world in naught but her underwear. She wasn't sure it was a feeling that she liked, becoming startled when the ringing stopped and a male voice carried across the line.

"Hello?"

"Uh..." Okay, this was that moment that her foster mom taught her that it was etiquette to begin with a 'Hello', but it was as if her entire vocabulary had gone through a shredder. Swallowing, she tried again. "H-hello. Am I speaking to...to...Legolas?"

The voice on the other end of the phone went silent, and she feared they had hung up. It was when the voice spoke with such uncertainty that Wennie felt her heart go out to him. "Ithilwen?" It was like the air had been knocked out of him. "Is that you?"

"Uh...well...according to Thranduil I am," she said nervously. "My legal name is Winifred, but everyone calls me Wennie."

There was a soft sigh of contentment. "It is you, then." The voice of Legolas sounded truly happy then, and a small part of Wennie was glad that she had decided to call. "I have longed to hear your voice so much that I feared that I had succumbed to insanity."

"Hey now you haven't met me face-to-face. You can't go saying I've driven you insane until we've met!" she found herself laughing. It probably wasn't the best time to laugh, but she almost always found herself laughing when she was anxious about something.

"But you have," Legolas told her honestly. "For a long time you have driven me mad. In a good way though, I assure you."

Something about the way Legolas said that and chuckled made Wennie blush. Or maybe it was because she had a dirty mind, but either way, it seemed that the awkward first words were past them. "Thranduil told me some things," she began, stretching out her legs. "He said that you've been searching for a long time. I...I'm sorry."

"Why do you apologize, Ithilwen?"

She shrugged. "Guilt? You've been turning the world on it's proverbial side according to your dad looking for me and I've been oblivious this entire time."

Legolas sighed. "You should not feel guilt for something out of your control," he said. "I knew that one day I would get news of your appearance, and that has what has kept me in check for so long. We should look forward to what comes in the future, now that we have found each other once more."

Wennie visibly winced. "Yeah, about that..." she began. "...you may be the only one that knows anything..."

"You have not recovered any memories?" The question was just that, a question. There was no judgmental tone accompanying it, and Wennie wondered how he couldn't be upset.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I've been getting some weird dreams lately though that your dad says are glimpses."

"There you go apologizing for something out of your control again. Any progress is good progress, Ithilwen. I don't expect everything to come back at once."

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"About what?"

"About my lack of memory!" Wennie began to gesture widely to her empty room as if he were standing there before her. "I know squat about my own husband and he's acting like I told him the week's forecast! Aren't you upset?!"

"It hurts," he said slowly, "I won't lie, but you just speaking to me is more than I could have asked for right now."

"How come?" she asked curiously.

"Because of what you just said," Legolas pointed out. "We are married. I was afraid that my father had scared you with this information, and you wouldn't want to speak to me."

Wennie pulled her knees up to her chest to rest her elbows on. "I'm not gonna lie, the idea freaks me out," she told him. "I mean as far as I know I'm still a virgin, though I guess that's born-again virgin..."

She heard Legolas chuckling, and the sound made her stomach do a little flip. "Not for long," he teased. When she made a strangled noise, he added, "That was too soon. I'm sorry Ithilwen."

"Oh yeah you sound sorry," she smiled a little, almost seeing a wide grin on his face. "If what your dad said was right, you've been doing without for a looong time now."

"I did not offend you?"

"Nah," she said. "My coworkers have told dirtier jokes."

"I imagine I could best them," Legolas said casually. "But as you were saying; this information doesn't scare you into ever meeting me...does it?"

She shrugged again. "I highly doubt that," she told him. "I would like to meet you, but I was hoping I'd remember you before that time came. Not knowing you as I'm meeting you sounds terrible, all things considered."

"It is understandable, Ithilwen," Legolas spoke. "For the time being I will just be satisfied speaking with you like this. When your memories come back, however, I may not be able to stay away any longer. I have missed you terribly, Ithilwen."

"I can tell," she said softly. The way he spoke to her just exuded loneliness of a missing lover, and she wished she had some recollection of him so she could say she missed him as well. "But...where does that leave us now?" This was something she was unsure about, with their circumstances, and she wanted to have some idea of what to expect from Legolas in the near future.

"I'm not sure. I have waited for this moment for so long that all of my plans have vanished on me," he chuckled again. "I do know this; do not try to force yourself to remember anything on my account, Ithilwen. Your memories will return in time, and in the meantime I will work to watch you fall in love with me all over again."

Another stomach flip aside, Wennie had to admit that that deal didn't sound too bad. Sleep be damned, she told herself. She wanted to stay up a little longer and talk to the husband she couldn't remember.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N:** Finally starting to put the M rating to use. ;) The language isn't too bad, but jus throwing it out there that from here on you might see some foul words you wouldn't have found in Call Me Maybe. I feel like the rating is more for the potential smutiness that will show up later, but for now just language. I'll give you a heads up on a really saucy chapter at the start if that's not your cup of tea. :3 Aside from that, I am _really_ happy with this chapter! A good 2/3rds of this was written almost two years ago on a whim, and to be frank this came out much better when I compared the two drafts. I wanted the ending bit to keep on going, but I was already at 19 pages for this chapter alone, and there'll always be more phone talk between Legolas and Ithilwen. But the ball is rolling now; what'd you think? If you're worried about it ending too soon - you must not have read my other story. lol They may have just started speaking but there's a long way to go for them to be where they were. Not to mention you guys haven't really gotten to see any of Ithilwen's memories either - another part I'm really looking forward to writing!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** As this chapter only contains two characters, one being Wennie, there is one little note I want to make before you get to it. If by chance you read the character's conversations in certain voices, for the second one I used the voice of the late Michael Clark Duncan as a reference (Armageddon, The Green Mile, etc).

-x-x-x-x-x-

Wennie had only spoken to Legolas two more times over the past week since the first call.

It wasn't that she was trying to avoid him by any means. It had more to do with the sudden flux in her schedule that attributed to the lack of contact. The semester was just getting into the swing of things, and already she was having to write papers for two of her classes before the end of the month. The fall break would be some relief, but that wouldn't be until October, and even then she still had work.

That was another thing that had eaten up her time. Julia, one of the older waitresses, had been rushed to the hospital after taking a fall at her house, breaking her ankle and fracturing a part of her leg on impact. She was going to be unable to work for an indefinite amount of time, which meant that her hours were up for grabs. Since she was the only one with no commitments to children or had children on the way, Wennie ultimately had the extra hours dumped on top of her already bulging schedule.

She couldn't complain though. The apartment owner had decided to raise the rent to compensate for losing money in another endeavor, and despite the hike not being that outrageous, her wallet disagreed. This came after she had gotten notices about new fees associated with her other utilities, naturally. Then one of her work uniforms had suffered some damage from extensive wear, which called for her having to take it to a seamstress to replace the threadbare fabric with a whole new palette. Her laptop was declining in speed, and she was fearing that its drivers were about to give out. If she hadn't needed either for work or school, she'd have foregone paying for anything else but food and bills until she could get her head out of the water.

With all of these things to stress over, the moments of relief the had came from Legolas, surprisingly. He, the biggest anticipated stressor, had managed to make her laugh when she wanted to just sit and cry for hours. What's more, he never sounded upset that she didn't recall any of the moments he talked about between them. She knew he was upset - how could one not be - but he seemed so positive that one day she would remember everything.

It was Thursday night when Wennie collapsed into bed, just kicking off her boots and top. She was too tired to fuss with the pants or any remaining makeup, knowing how frightening she'd be in the morning but she could have cared less. Thranduil had invited her over for a late dinner, as per habit when she worked late at night, and as their recent tradition went, grilled her on her talks with his son. Maybe he was just being helpful or concerned, but sometimes Wennie wondered if he just wasn't nosy. He seemed to take it harder than his son did on the nights when she didn't have time to talk to him.

Two days prior she surmised the reason why he was so nosy, and that was grandchildren. He wanted grandchildren, just like any other parent. She couldn't fault him on that, but dammit she still couldn't remember her own husband!

Wennie rolled over on her back, wincing as her body weight had crushed her breasts into the mattress. As tired as she was she kept thinking about it and how much Thranduil was jumping the gun on the whole thing. It was like he was trying to jump-start the neurons in her brain. Or something. She didn't know and she didn't care.

Her last thoughts before she fell asleep were of pushy parents and flat-chested women being the lucky ones.

* * *

Wennie knew she was dreaming to two simple reasons. One, she was standing in a large open space that resembled a mix between ancient Greek and Celtic halls. Two, she was standing in a large open space that resembled a mix between ancient Greek and Celtic halls bare-ass naked.

She barely mumbled "What the fuck" as her feet registered the coolness of the marbled floor beneath them, making her curious enough to explore her surroundings. Thankfully she didn't see any pointed objects anywhere.

The more she looked around, the more she realized that pretty much every surface of this grand hall was built of this polished marble-like material. Hanging torches built from dark iron hung high on the pillars, casting the room in a yellow-orangish glow, and yet there were still areas the light did not reach. When she approached these shadowed areas, Wennie could see very large and elaborate tapestries hung along the walls. They were expertly crafted; clearly someone had practice with needlework that she would likely never achieve. As she walked down one direction, the tapestries appeared to tell a story, but of what she couldn't be sure. To Wennie, it looked like lost history that had fallen in the cracks of biased interpretations and time.

"I had begun to wonder when you would find your way, Child."

Wennie nearly jumped out of her skin at the booming voice that suddenly appeared as it echoed off the walls. Fearing she was in a place she shouldn't have been, she dove behind the closest pillar as the voice spoke again.

"It would be easier to speak with you if you would show yourself, Child." The voice paused. "You have nothing to fear. Come out from behind that pillar."

"E-easy for you to say," Wennie stammered, pushing her hair over her breasts before she revealed herself. Not that she hadn't revealed _all_ of herself, but logic in dreams had a weird way of functioning. "A-and why d-do you keep calling me 'Child'?"

"I call everyone that enters these halls Child," the voice spoke again. "I am older than these halls. It would take an effort to find something in this room that is older than me."

Wennie clasped her hands before her as she stepped away from the cover of her pillar, in a poor attempt to cover her nether region. She followed the sound of the voice as she walked, slowly so her hair wouldn't move too much, coming to stand in the middle of the room. Towards the end, where she noticed a very large stone seat draped with dark fabrics stood a hulking size of a being. He appeared human-esque, but the dark robes that adorned his body did little to give her any other physical characteristics, save for silver-white eyes that seemed to glow against the darkness around them.

Staring open-mouthed at the figure at the head of the halls, she spoke without thinking. "I was going to call you the Grim Reaper by your clothes, but since you say you're older than everything...does that make you God?"

The deeply-voiced male seemed to sigh. "Having dealt with you before, Child, I should have expected such an asinine question."

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

He sighed again. "Only in a sense of speaking, Child. I am not 'God', as the mortals around you would assume, nor am I the 'Grim Reaper'. I am Námo, more commonly referred to as Mandos, the Harbringer of Fate. We are in my halls."

"So you're Satan."

"Child, I am what the mortal-created being of hellfire strives to be," Mandos rumbled. "Do not confuse me with the mythological monstrosities the mortals have concocted to satisfy their desire for the afterlife."

As he started to walk slowly around the room, Wennie felt herself shrink back. This guy was enormous, and just his presence in a room managed to suck the air out; it was worse when he moved. "S-sorry," she mumbled.

"You are forgiven," Mandos waved his hand dismissively in the air. "I did not expect you to know anything of my existence yet."

"...Yet?" Wennie turned on the spot as she watched him walk in a wide circle around her. She almost felt like prey being stalked, but she was pretty sure it would only be for sport if he took a notion. "Are you saying that you know about my..." she paused and gaped as the realization hit her, "You're the guy Thranduil told me about! You're the one that brought me back from the dead!"

Mandos stopped in his slow paces and studied her. Wennie felt like she was being scrutinized and instinctively went to cover herself again. "You are not the first to appear in my halls in the skin you were borne, Child, and you will not be the last," he told her as she fought to flatten her hair. "And you are correct, to a degree. Your former physical form may have passed from the world, but your fëa never ceased to exist."

"Sorry, but associating this with reincarnation is the only way I've been able to make sense of everything."

"Again you apologize for what you do not know," Mandos stated. "Is this something all mortals do now?"

Wennie shrugged, having given up on avoiding the reoccurring nip-slips. "It's a habit I'm trying to break."

"Good," he said. "You never apologized as frequently when you were still of the Eldar."

"How do you know that?"

"Child, I know everything." Mandos began his steady pace again. "I know everything about everyone in existence, and I will never forget anything. I distinctly recall how talkative you were when you resided here for a time. It is part of my duty to judge the fates of those that grace these halls."

"Personally I thought the Egyptians had it easiest, balancing the heart of the deceased against that of the feather and all that..." Wennie's rambling came to a halt quickly when Mandos focused his attention once more on her. "Um...why am I here, exactly? Is this some kind of probation meeting, or am I a canceled order?"

Mandos continued to stare, which only made Wennie more nervous. Given his manner of speech, decorum, and mannerisms, this didn't look like the kind of being that would understand modern snark. Not that she was intentionally trying to be snarky, of course; it just came out that way when she was really anxious.

"Child, I have a reason for everything that I do," he said slowly. "I watch over those I re-embody to look for inconsistencies with their development. It is only on very rare occasions that I will reach out to a Reborn to seek an audience with them."

"Is this because I'm not an elf?"

"You are correct."

"But according to Thranduil, I'm going to be," she continued. "...I am, aren't I?"

Instead of answering outright, Mandos asked her a question instead. "Is once-again achieving your place among the Eldar your wish?"

"Well, yeah! I mean - I've been told I have so many memories that I don't know about that I want to remember... I have a whole other life that I never knew about! I have a family! I have... I have...a husband..." She may have faltered when she acknowledged that last part, but who could blame her?

Mandos stopped once again in his walk around Wennie, this time standing directly before her. "You did not hesitate in your answer."

"It's not to sound ungrateful for everything my foster mom did for me," she added. "It's just that I've never felt like it was _my_ life. Mom always told me that if I wasn't happy with what I was doing, that I need to change it. That's easy when it's a job or a college major, but an entire lifetime? That's not something I'd ever believe possible until now."

"You have the choice, Child," Mandos said. "You can continue to fight the emergence of your former life and maintain the path you are on, or you can embrace the trials that will come with your memories and return to your heart's desire."

Oddly the mention of that last bit made Wennie's thoughts turn to Legolas. While she still didn't feel any of the emotions she knew she should have felt for her husband, the Valar's words were too on point to ignore. "Hang on... What do you mean by 'trials'? This isn't going to be like the twelve challenges of Hercules or anything, right? I don't know about your confidence in me, but I for one know I couldn't take on a giant boar or a lion."

Mandos sighed again, idly wondering if his wife was somewhere keeping count. She seemed to have gotten great enjoyment out of the little elleth's endless questions during her stint in his halls. "I refer to events yet to come, Child."

"I don't suppose I could get a syllabus, could I?"

Another hard stare basically told Wennie just how done Mandos was with her odd humor. "There will be moments where you will find yourself further set apart from the mortals of Arda," he told her. "You will feel isolated and may even cast doubt upon your decisions. The mortals are not equipped to comprehend the long-lasting life of the Eldar, and this is a fact you must make peace with now. In order for you to return to your former life, you must learn to let go of your current one. You will never be alone, Child, no matter how dark you believe the world has become."

Wennie didn't have words to respond to that advice, so she simply nodded her head in understanding. Of course she didn't entirely understand everything Mandos had just told her, but according to him she would in time. "I take it that this will be the only time I see you," she said instead.

"It is," Mandos nodded. "The implications of this arrangement are far more complicated than you will ever know. However, it would have been dangerous to approach you, regardless of how simpler the process."

"I don't understand."

"The current society of mortals have incited wars under the guises of their allegiances to higher powers, surely you have witnessed this. They are ill-equipped to handle the physical truth of an afterlife that does not exist within their terms. The Valar do not intervene in the lives of Men unless it is of utmost urgency. We have seen far too much blood spilled from hate and greed to wish to produce more conflict."

That made sense, Wennie thought silently. "But what about the other 'higher powers'? Do they exist, or are the mortals set up for disappointment?"

Mandos stepped closer to Wennie, and she had to will herself to not take a step back. If he had intended to maim her, he would have done so already when she called him the Devil. When he spoke next, it wasn't with a tone of authority or snideness. The rumbling voice that filled the room was filled with warmth as he said, "Of all the souls I have procured in these halls, you are one of the few that has ever been so inquisitive, Child. Before you had heard of me, you did not believe in my existence. There is nothing to say otherwise for anyone else. I can neither confirm nor deny other spiritual beings. The only words I can say on the matter are that there are no wrong answers, only those that feel inclined to deny another's beliefs."

Wennie found she rather liked that answer, and it was logical too. No one knew for certain what they were getting into before death, and they wouldn't know until they were dead. "So what does that make you, then?" she asked. "If you don't call yourself a god, I mean."

"We are but a number of watchers of Creation borne from Eru Ilúvatar's thoughts," he told her. "He is our Creator, and we revere him as the highest power in existence." Then Mandos paused, as if considering how best to describe it to her. "We do not share the semblance of the images your mind could conjur, but I believe the term 'angel' would suffice your query."

Silence followed, and she wondered if there was anything more to be said. Getting nothing from the being before her, Wennie had just one more question, and it seemed Mandos could sense it, for he straightened even further. "Is there anything you can tell me about what I can expect in the near future? You said I would experience trials, but you never said what exactly."

"You have already been told that your physical form will begin to assimilate to accommodate your fëa properly. You have already begun to experience the reemergence of your memories. These will be the trials that you will encounter; how you handle them and how you keep your identity under guise from the mortals is based on your decision. The only advice I can bestow upon you is to use vigilance as your form changes. I have been observing the mortals and have noticed that the majority do not take well to things that they do not understand. Given the circumstances, this could be dangerous to your person."

"Yeah, I'd rather not be a science cadaver for a biology lesson."

The area was becoming darker than it was originally, and Wennie knew that she was losing her connection to Mandos. In fact, the last thing she saw was his stern look as he told her "Take care not to, for it was far too difficult to find you a replacement vessel the first time, Ithilwen." odd, how he would choose to address her by her name right when she was about to wake up...

* * *

Wennie woke with a start and rubbed her eyes, realizing that she had broken out into a sweat in the middle of the night. She kicked the covers off her body, letting the cooler air in the room leave a path of goosebumps across her exposed skin.

Was it a dream? Had she really met one of the Valar that Galion had told her about?

It all seemed too bizarre to be real. She could still vividly recall the marble pillars that carried the torches, the tapestries that made no sense to her, and the deep voice that shook her to the bone. Looking down she realized that she was still clothed in her work uniform, which might have had something to do with the feverish temperature of the bed. Not even bothering to sit up, she wiggled and lifted her hips off the bed in an attempt to shirk the pants off before reaching for her discarded blankets with her toes to recover herself.

Turning over on her side, Wennie saw that she still had a few hours before she had to get up for class. Beside the clock sat the now-framed picture of Legolas. She may have hesitated in admitting she was a wife to Mandos, but Wennie knew that her current life was getting her nowhere but further in debt. As crazy as it was, she still found herself smiling as she drifted back to sleep, thinking that the one person she should have been antsy around actually made her feel more alive.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait! Psychology is kicking my butt, but I'm trying to finish it this week, so I wanted to finish this first. It's a bit off-track from what I originally planned, but I thought it might be interesting to see how Ithilwen handles hearing this information from one of the Valar. I don't know why I thought of Michael Clark Duncan as a reference for Mandos' voice, but it just felt right. My second option, if I were going for a darker version, would have had to have been Tony Todd (Candyman). Check out some clips of them on youtube if you don't know them; you won't be disappointed!

I got this question in a previous chapter, from CountingSinfulStars I believe, and it raised a good point about ages in the story. I'm still going with Tolkien's facts of elven maturity in the story, but Ithilwen's an odd case. I've seen differing things about elven rebirths and whether they were frequent or not. I'd like to believe - and this is my theory - that the soul of the fallen elf sits in the Halls of Mandos until such a time as required for their rebirth based on his judgment. If you really screwed up in life, Mandos would keep you even longer. I don't believe that the soul stops aging, though. And going back to Ithilwen, having been put in a mortal vessel is going to complicate things with her soul. The physical form, if you wanted a number, might be late 20s to mid 30s, but her soul is still aging. So really, she's of majority; she just hasn't rolled over that milestone physically.

Does that mean the stuff y'all are waiting on is going to take forever? Nope! It'll come together in the next few chapters, I think, to make sense of what all Ithilwen's dealing with. If I were to say anymore I'd spoil it for you! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you serious, guys? Really?" Terry looked around exasperated at his soon-to-be-former staff as the notes of 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' began. "You had to pick Greenday of all things."

"Would you have rather had 'Good Riddance' play when you came in?" Gene grinned from behind the bar. "Olivia suggested it, but I told her it sounded a bit harsh-"

"I did not you ass!"

"We could always have played Nickelback," Julia suggested. She was perched in her wheelchair, still exempt from working but she refused to miss her boss' farewell party.

Terry's face contorted into something of horror. "Oh gods no!" he said dramatically, "Anything but that!"

Laughter filled the room with that remark, but while the noise was joyous and uplifting, the entire atmosphere of the restaurant was melancholy. The current staff that had worked there were all hired by Terry, and it had become a second family to many of them. The idea of someone new coming in was not a welcomed one, but one's personal situations came first. And so it was that after hours, Terry walked into a darkened restaurant, only to be greeted in surprise by his entire workstaff with balloons, music, and enough cake to choke a horse. The large sheetcake was made at the local grocery store bakery, fashioned with bronze-like sugar gears and icing. Across its top was written 'We'll miss you Terry!' in piped icing by someone with a very steady hand.

Wennie sat at the bar just out of the social sphere, observing. She had been mulling over what all her previous dream, or rather, what Mandos had told her. Facing 'trials' sounded more stressful than a final exam in Calculus, but she knew deep down that he was right. She'd have to face the facts and learn to distance herself from those she had become so familiar with, and that hurt. Wennie didn't want to just break all connections though; if she had it her way she'd slowly drift apart from the rest of the group.

However, it would not be this night. Terry leaving was bad enough. Next to Bernard, he was her second "good friend" she had made since her foster-mother's passing. She reached for her whiskey and coke and wrinkled her nose. Either Gene had added more whiskey when she wasn't looking or her sense of smell had gotten better. Taking a sip, the amber liquid burned her throat, and she tried not to cough. She didn't really want anything to drink, even if Bernard would be picking her up after his night class. Looking out at the middle of the room, she could see some of the younger women trying to teach Terry one of the new dances. Wennie snorted to herself. This man was far older than she was, if only the gray streaks in his hair showed it. She took another sip of her drink, this time a larger one. If they were going to teach their 50-something year old boss how to twerk she'd need to be buzzed to keep the image from becoming permanently ingrained in her memory.

Wennie found herself frowning then, realizing that more than just her throat was uncomfortable. Since when did a whiskey and coke make her ears burn?

* * *

Two days later, Wennie was pretty sure that it wasn't Gene's whiskey and coke concoction that had made her ears burn.

In fact, that slight burning had progressed to itching, and now it had turned into a full-on throbbing ache. First she had to remove the piercings, where the itching had begun around the formed holes. She thought it had been the earrings themselves, but they were pristine and hypo-allergenic. When the aching began, she was dismayed to have to remove the ear cuffs as well, as the pain had begun to creep up the outer rims of her ears. If that were not bad enough, the soreness had become so bad that Wennie could barely stand to wear her glasses when she needed them. Sleeping on either side wasn't even an option.

Come to think of it, hadn't Thranduil said something about her body changing? Was this part of that weird elven-recovery-puberty phase? She really hoped her former body wasn't any bigger than a 36D, or she'd have a big problem on her hands.

'Make that _two_ problems,' Wennie thought as she moved about the empty tables in Cogs and Coins. If she could have withstood the uniform, she could have easily gotten a job as a waitress at Hooters just on looks alone.

Everyone expected the new manager to come in the following day after Terry left, so it came as a surprise to many when the founder, Vick, unlocked the front doors for them. The new guy was held up in New York apparently, and Vick had decided to fill the space as a silent observer to better bring the newcomer up to speed.

That was all well and good for the new guy, but everyone else felt like they were being scrutinized by the owner for every movement. Vick was a very nice guy, but to them, he had the authority of a school principal that decided to sit on on a class with students who liked to tell dirty jokes. They didn't know how long he'd be around, so they were on constant good behavior, lest they give him the wrong impression.

'Act like a mortal...Wasn't that something Mandos said?' Wennie thought, checking the shakers on her current table. 'How the hell am I supposed to act human when all I want to do is scratch my ears like a cat?!' Satisfied with their content, she set them back and moved to the next table. As she was straightening again, she couldn't help but notice the minuscule cobwebs in the uppermost corner of the ceiling - all the way on the other side of the restaurant.

Oh yeah. She'd definitely be paying a visit to Thranduil and Galion after work.

* * *

"Why will you not give one of these a chance, Erestor?"

"Why will you not listen to reason, Galion?"

The brunette couldn't contain the sigh of aggravation at his friend. The laptop sat perched on some empty counter space in the kitchen, where he was presently mixing spices into the raw ground beef for a meatloaf. He had found an interesting cajun-flavor of the classic meal and was eager to try it.

Erestor, however, was not.

In the webcam window on Galions' laptop featured another kitchen, all the way in Europe, with a frowning scholar. "There is nothing to turn one's nose up at with a classic meal," he continued.

"And variety is the spice of life, mellon," Galion said. "Honestly is the lovemaking between you and Lindir that bland? Do you carry this disposition over to the bedroom?"

Onscreen, Erestor was wishing he could get use the internet connection as a teleportation device. "What my mate and I do in the bedroom is none of your concern-"

"I'm only looking out for my friends!" Galion interjected innocently.

Erestor growled something unintelligible before saying, "I hope your meatloaf burns."

Galion grinned, nonplussed by his friend's weak insult. "That will only add to its cajun flavor." He plunked the ball of ground meat around in the bowl to make sure he had picked up all of the seasonings. "You should try some of the recipes I've picked up. I'll email them to you when I get this in the oven. Who knows, you might like one of them!"

"I doubt that."

"Don't be like that," Galion began. "Lindir! Back me up on this!"

Erestor turned to see his mate approach his side. Lindir looked to Erestor, then to the laptop where he assumed Galion was watching. "You know as well as I do two things. One, that my mate is a finicky eater when it comes to new things. Two, I don't choose sides in your arguments."

Galion appeared deflated. "Sounds to me like you did."

"I did not. I simply know which side my bread is buttered on."

"Well if it's your buns it's the back!" Galion was glad he was in California, for Erestor's face had turned a furious shade of purple with that dirty comment.

Erestor looked fit to kill and was about to shout expletives at is friend's ill sense of humor when the sounds of children squealing and laughing entered the kitchen. As he removed himself from the room, lest he teach the younglings a new swear word, Lindir remained behind to watch as five children came into view.

The twin boys looked the spitting image of their father Elrohir, yet the daughter's hair was more of an auburn, though she had her mother's eyes. Their cousin sported blond hair like her mother, but she had Elladan's mischievous smile. The last little elleth to run though had golden blond hair like her father and her mother's incredibly light-colored eyes.

Not far behind them came the current head of the company Greenwood Ltd. Legolas scooped up his niece and laughed as she protested. "That's not fair, Uncle! My brothers can run faster than me!"

"They are older, penneth," He grinned, balancing her on his hip as he turned to Lindir. "Wasn't Erestor just here?"

"He removed himself so as not to corrupt the youth of our people," Lindir said.

"Was Uncle Erestor about to say a bad word?" The golden-haired elleth asked.

"Oh yes," Galion nodded sagely from the laptop screen.

Lindir turned to face him. "Only because you started it."

"I did not!"

"You did- I'm not getting into this..."

Legolas focused his attention on the computer screen, not noticing that the auburn elleth in his arms had begun to squirm. "Galion, could you do me a favor?"

"Of course, my prince."

"A package should be arriving to you shortly - I overnighted it FedEX. Could you give it to Ithilwen for me?"

Galion nodded. "I will be on the watch, sir." He saw Legolas nod in thanks before his niece jumped to the ground and sped off, starting the chase again. Lindir watched them all leave before he turned back to the laptop. "He hasn't been making plans to fly over here, has he?"

"He's talked about it," Lindir replied. "Why do you think the younglings are not with their parents?"

The brunette sighed. "Ithilwen needs to recover her memories soon, then. I don't think even the children will be able to keep him occupied for much longer..."

* * *

The new head of Cogs and Coins didn't make his debut until the end of the first week in October, and it was such a...grand entrance...that Wennie was thankful for her last shift to end. She wouldn't have to work again until Monday, as one of the girls she had been standing in for decided to return the favor. That scale would never be balanced, but Wennie didn't care as she pushed her bike out of the side door. She was just glad to get away.

The new manager's name was Rick, and by the end of the day, Gene had secretly crowned the new guy with the name "Rick the Dick". Which he was, basically.

Rick had dark dirty-brown hair that was cut short, but everyone could see that it naturally curled. He was lightly tanned and had some light stubble. In truth everyone expected different; a fitted suit and tie ensemble instead of getting a backwoods contractor from Hickory, North Carolina. When he opened his mouth to introduce himself, the accent wasn't there, and neither were the Nascar mannerisms. His vocabulary was very broad, which made many around the place wonder if they hadn't jumped to conclusions.

Wennie jostled as the bike's tires left the edge of one curb and soon met the next. 'Oh yeah, we jumped to conclusions alright,' she thought bitterly. 'I can't think of one person that would rather have the laid-back Southerner over...whatever the hell this guy is.'

By the end of the day, Rick had managed as the new manager to piss off pretty much every employee in the building.

Wennie never put much stock in stereotypes, but wherever Rick was really from, she hoped his hometown wasn't as rude as he was. Where Terry was kind and patient on busy days, Rick was demanding and impatient. Terry would have the decency to wait until the employee he was asking for had finished their rounds - no sense in upsetting hungry customers and ultimately losing their business. With Rick, what he wanted came first. Rick didn't believe in the customers being right. He outright argued an order with a customer during the lunch hour rush, and if it hadn't been for his coworkers apologizing behind his back, they'd have lost a regular customer.

Along with introductions and listing the day's specials, apologizing for the new management had quickly become a habit. Whether it was to the customers from the staff or from the customers to the staff was the question.

Rick had not only gotten into an argument with a regular customer, he had also belittled the competency of the wait-staff hours later, Wennie being one of them. His opinion of women was very low, believing that they should be better suited to the kitchens if they were not "appropriate" to serve.

'That just means he wants us to be model-ready,' she thought, squeezing the brake handle of the bike as she arrived at the apartment building. Hefting the bike on her shoulder, she wedged herself in the door and began the long trek upstairs. He had already criticized her choice of uniform, feeling it wasn't feminine enough for her position, ignoring the practicality altogether. She had a feeling that he didn't see large curves as the epitome of "model-readiness", and that only added to her list of worries.

She hated leaving work when she did, feeling guilty that she enjoyed being away from her second-home so much while her coworkers still had to deal with Rick. Wennie knew what the others were thinking - why did Terry have to go? The thought of never being able to work for Terry again upset everyone, just as the thought of having to return to Rick the Dick on Monday was enough to make her ill.

'If I had any way of getting another job, I'd probably leave,' Wennie mused as she turned onto the next landing. 'The economy's just too bad around here to do that, even if I wasn't drowning in debt. It'd be a long, drawn-out suicide if I quit...'

* * *

After a long-awaited shower, Wennie sat down on her couch in a fresh pair of pajamas with towel-dried hair. She stared with disdain at her laptop, knowing that she needed to get it over with.

In an attempt to lessen the building interest on her growing student loans, Wennie had forced herself to make at least the required minimum payment each month. It would build up her credit history in the process and make her feel a little less guilty about borrowing money to go to school. When she could, she would pay off a little more after her scheduled bill, but the rising rates on her other bills in the past months had kept that from being very frequent. Her loan representative for the agency had even recommended that she just wait until she left school to begin repayment, but Wennie was adamant about at least paying the monthly interest. She was damned determined to pay off her debts.

Sighing, she flipped open the laptop and navigated to the designated website. After logging in, she moved the cursor to check her remaining balance out of habit, and she felt a boulder settle in her stomach.

The balance on her account had been paid in full.

Muttering "What the fuck" to herself, she refreshed the page to make sure it wasn't an error. Seeing the same result, Wennie grabbed her phone and dialed customer service. The waiting music that reached her ears was only raising her anxiety. How could this have happened? She was tens of thousands in debt! There was no way she could have completed payments already! When a living being connected in the call, Wennie explained in detail what she had seen on her account as the person in billing checked her records.

"There is no error, Miss Sioda," the rep said enthusiastically. "This is very good news for you, congratulations!"

"But _I_ didn't make the payment!" Wennie reasoned. "There has to be an explanation... Do you happen to know who did pay off my bill?"

Some clicking was heard. "I do, ma'am."

It was worth a shot to ask. "Would you be able to tell me the name of the person that made the payment?"

"Of course, ma'am." More clicking. "Hmm. I can't find a specific name on the invoice, Miss Sioda, but I can tell you that the final payment came from a Greenwood Limited. It appears to be a large company from Europe..."

Wennie didn't hear the rest of the rep's sentence. Her brain zeroed in on "company" and "Europe", and immediately she knew who the culprit was. She quickly thanked the woman for her assistance before she hung up the phone.

Without pausing to think about what she'd say, Wennie hopped up from the couch and went to her room. In there, she grabbed her cotton bathrobe and tossed it around herself before she padded on bare feet back through her apartment and out across the hall. Given that he had invaded her personal space so many times before, Wennie didn't think to knock as she barged in the apartment. The sudden entrance had caught both ellyn by surprise, not expecting to see a recently-showered Wennie standing in their living room.

"How are your ears feeling?" Thranduil asked casually.

"Sore, and cut the crap, Thranduil," Wennie pointed at him accusingly. "I know you did it."

"What did I do?"

"That could be a number of things, sir."

"He paid off my student loans!" Wennie nearly screeched.

"I did not!"

"Yes you did!" Wennie continued. "I went to pay off my monthly interest bill and just now found out that the bill had been paid in full!"

Thranduil turned slightly in his seat, nonplussed by the agitated woman standing before him. It hadn't been the first time and most certainly wouldn't be the last, in his experience. "Pray tell, how did you come to this conclusion?"

"I called customer service and talked to a lady in billing that told me that the invoice was marked with a payment from some 'Greenwood Ltd.' company in Europe, and since I only know two people from Europe that know I had student loans, it wasn't hard to guess!"

"Oh dear." Galion muttered. He had a sneaky suspicion of what happened, and he wanted to be as far away from the explosion as possible, so he excused himself to the kitchen.

Thranduil studied Wennie for some time, letting the silence in the room gather to uncomfortable heights. She was staring at him like she expected an answer. He had one, he just wasn't sure she wanted to hear it. "I can honestly tell you that I did not pay off your student loans, Ithilwen."

Wennie's eye twitched. Since she had learned of her real name, Thranduil had taken to addressing her by it in private.

"You wish to know who made that payment?"

"Obviously."

"It was your mate."

Her eye twitched again. "Legolas?" she asked slowly. "How does he know about my loans?"

Now Thranduil looked away. "I may have told him during one of our many talks-"

"I can't believe this!" Wennie shrieked. "Does _everyone_ know how pathetically broke I am?!"

"I thought this would please you-"

"Yes! If it were me that paid it off!" Wennie threw her hands in the air, letting them hit her sides. "Those loans had my name on them, so they were my responsibility to pay. No one else's."

"Perhaps you should talk to Legolas about this," the king suggested. "I imagine he has a very good reason for his actions."

"You're right," Wennie nodded, turning for the door. "And don't call him and warn him he's about to get an earful, either!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Ithilwen," he called out to her as the door closed. "You can come out now, Galion. The beast within her is gone."

Galion came to stand behind the couch where Thranduil sat, eyes trained on the door. "Would it not be wise to warn him?"

"He should be expecting this," Thranduil told him. "She has always been an independent elleth. I'm not surprised she's upset."

"I should hope not. You're the one that told your son in the first place."

"That was a miscalculation on my part, Galion. I did not expect him to do anything about her debt. I would think he would have learned by now."

* * *

In a darkened office illuminated only by the glow of the computer screen and moonlight, a large body was slumped over the desk. Pens, pencils, and various loose papers were piled around and under the sleeping figure. Near the computer speakers sat a cellular phone that had lit up and began to buzz.

Legolas had been doing everything in his willpower to not get on one of the company's private planes and flying to California since he had learned that his mate had been found. The news had shaken him, but it had also set him aflame with the desire to work. When she regained her memories of him, he wanted to show her that he had not wallowed in grief but had continued on as she would have hoped. Living in the New Arda for the duration of their search had been hell; between avoiding pestilence, war, and keeping their identities secret, the Age of Men had changed the lands far more significantly than they ever expected. That was part of why Greenwood Limited was built.

Greenwood Limited had changed from a small mom-and-pop-type store to a large corporation over time. In the beginning stages they created hand-carved furniture pieces, moving on to assimilate with the rise of technology as mass production plants took over. With some careful investing in the stock market, taking a chance on Apple and later Google, they had gained enough of a savings to further improve their company. Now, Greenwood Limited was a general company that focused on the production and improvement of environmentally-friendly goods. While they did not manufacture anything specific, they did invest in the smaller companies that were beginning to take hold, as well as the larger ones that had a credible history in their interests. What made Greenwood Limited more than just a large investor was the company's generous disposition for improving the environment as well. Many programs had been started under their name that encouraged bigger cities to plant more trees, convert to energy-efficient power solutions, and lessen the dependency on fossil fuels by expanding public transport. In effect, they had gained the name "New Age Tree Huggers" by some critics, but they couldn't deny that Greenwood Limited had earned a reputation for raising awareness.

As the cell phone continued to buzz, the sleeping form of Legolas shifted and stirred, lifting his head up to see he had a call. Legolas reached for the phone as he peeled a stray piece of paper off his cheek. He hated falling asleep at his desk, but at least this time he didn't wake up drooling. Without checking to see the name of the caller, he hit 'accept' and held the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"You."

"Ithilwen?" Legolas asked as his mind tried to focus.

"_You_."

"What's wrong, Ithilwen?" He now recognized it as his mate, but he didn't have a clue as to why she was near-hissing into the phone.

"What's wrong?" she asked sarcastically. "What's wrong? I can't believe you have the gall to ask me 'What's wrong' when you know exactly what is wrong!"

Rubbing his eyes, he sighed. "Contrary to popular belief I really don't know what is wrong. Could you start from the beginning, please?"

He heard her suppress a groan of annoyance before she started again. "I get home from work this evening to make a payment on a bill. I log into my account to pay said bill and I find out that it is paid in full. Thinking it is an error, I call customer service, where they tell me that a 'Greenwood Limited' was the one to foot the bill. I go over to speak to your father, thinking he was the one that paid it, when he tells me otherwise. So imagine my surprise when I find out that YOU PAID OFF MY STUDENT LOANS!"

Legolas had to hold the phone at an arms distance as Ithilwen's voice echoed in the room. He had almost forgotten just how loud she could get when she wanted to. Of course around him it was for an entirely different reason, and it most certainly wasn't because she was angry. The memories made the corner of his mouth twitch up in amusement until he remembered that she was in fact very angry with him.

"Ithilwen-"

"Why Legolas?" she continued, "Why would you do that? The student loans that I applied for were my own to take care of! I didn't expect anyone to come swooping in to pay them off!"

"Ithilwen," Legolas tried to soothe her nerves. "I know you didn't expect them to be paid for. When Adar told me that you had surmounted loans to go to college, I checked into them out of curiosity. If it makes you feel any better, I hesitated in my decision, because I had a feeling you would be upset."

"Then why didn't you, y'know, _not_ pay them, then?" Her voice had relaxed, and now it sounded more tired than raging. That was something, he supposed.

"Because you are my mate, Ithilwen," Legolas told her bluntly. "I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you are cared for. On the day of our binding ceremony I swore to you that I would take care of you, and I intend to keep that promise."

Aside from the pauses of silence on the other end, Legolas could her her try to formulate an argument to that. "That's...that's really sweet Legolas, but... I don't know. I'm not used to being taken care of so suddenly like this. It's bad enough Galion's been stocking my cabinets when I'm not home..."

"He does that a lot," Legolas smiled. "It's more a habit for him than anything else, if that helps."

"He's like a damned squirrel," Wennie laughed. "Every day I find something new." Legolas heard her voice soften as she continued to speak. "I just don't want to be the kind of girl that relies on a guy's wallet to live, you know? It's not that I'm trying to be stubborn or anything, but I want to feel as if I can take care of myself when I need to. Since my foster mom died, that's what I've been doing, so this whole thing has messed with my head."

"I understand that, but you need to understand that as your husband, I am going to take care of you. Okay?"

"...Okay." A pause. "I'm still not used to being the wife of someone I haven't met in this lifetime."

"I know, but it makes me smile to hear you call yourself my wife regardless." Legolas ran his hands through his hair as he leaned back in the desk chair. "Ithilwen, the reason I paid off your student loans was not just because you are my wife, but because I know the struggles of loans."

"Oh really." Her tone sounded sarcastic.

"Yes, really. Greenwood Limited didn't rise to where it is overnight. We were once a very small store that accepted crops as payment. We've hit hard times with the economy just like the rest of the world. And now that we have the ability, we want to pay it forward where we are able."

"And how is a student loan bill fit in with your company's mission statement?"

"Greenwood Limited has put each of our kin through college," Legolas explained. "It is a family-built company, and when someone took a notion to go to school, we supplied the funds as simple as that. We've even established scholarships around the world for deserving students. I've seen and experienced the stress that college can put on a person, Ithilwen. That is why I paid off the loans. I want you to be able to focus on the work so you can succeed like I know you can without worrying about how to pay the bill."

Wennie could be heard sighing over the phone. "I feel like an ass now," she muttered.

"Don't," Legolas told her. "Perhaps when we meet in person you'll let me feel yours?" he asked cheekily.

Now he heard Wennie snort. "Did you seriously just ask to touch my butt?"

Legolas grinned. "I would like to do more than that, honestly. I do remember you actually enjoyed it though when I squeezed-"

"I don't remember that."

"You mean you don't recall me speaking Sindarin between your legs?" he asked innocently, which was hard to do as he was grinning from ear to ear.

The squawk of surprise from the other end didn't disappoint Legolas, who had been steadily inserting dirty questions into their phone conversations more frequently. She never told him to quit though; instead she would usually fire back. It seemed this time he had really surprised her, but it was disappointing he couldn't see her expression. He'd have to remember to ask her again in person.

"W-w-w-what?! I _really_ don't remember _that_!" For Wennie, these kinds of talk between them were like friendly banter, but she couldn't have been sure if he was serious or not with this last one.

"Really? I'll have to remedy that." Legolas responded quickly.

"Wait. You're not joking, are you?" Wennie asked nervously.

"Of course I'm not," he replied. "I wasn't joking about the butt-squeezing, either."

"Good lord," she muttered to herself. Legolas heard the distinct sound of something being waved in the air on her end that sounded like paper. Was she fanning herself?

"Did I come on too strong, Ithilwen?" Legolas asked in concern. He had been honest, even as he teased her, but he was beginning to think he had gone too far too soon.

"No, but you caught me off guard."

"Well what do you think?"

"I'm not quite sure what to think, Legolas."

He stretched in his seat. "You haven't recalled anything more since we last talked?"

"Just pieces of scenery; nothing substantial," she replied. "Although now I'm wondering what kind of dreams I'm going to have tonight, thank you very much!"

Legolas grinned again. "My pleasure."

"I'm sure it is."

"Oh most assuredly," he told her. "And when you remember it will be yours as well!"

"LEGOLAS!"

"What?"

"Don't be a perv."

"You wish me to wait until we are under the same roof?"

"That would be nice, but I know you won't."

"See there, you already remember something about me," Legolas said smugly. "But did I make you feel better, Ithilwen?"

"What do you mean? Since I called?"

"Yes, you were almost hissing at me. So did I?"

A light sigh and what Legolas expected to be a smile came forth in her voice. "Yes. Yes you did, Legolas. Thank you. For...you know...everything."

"Anytime, Ithilwen."

* * *

"This is not a good idea."

"Says the one that spilled the beans about her former life," replied the woman in the front passenger seat of the car. "We're family, Thranduil. It is our god-given right to see her."

The woman sitting in the back seat scooted forward to reach the cell phone as she spoke. "And since you've already jumped ahead of the game, it's only fair for us to introduce ourselves. Make it easier for her to digest and all that."

The woman with the phone heard the king sigh in defeat. "Does Legolas know of your plans?"

"Nope, and we didn't think to tell him either," the first woman replied.

"You do realize that this will make him insufferable."

The driver laughed, having heard that sentence clearly. "Spare us the details. He's already insufferable because he hasn't gotten any in so long!"

"And you know why," the woman in the backseat countered.

"Ease up," the driver said, "I was only teasing. What I meant by it was that the princess needs some girl time with others like her, because when she gets within arms length of Legolas you won't be able to use the Jaws of Life to get her out of his grip!"

"Melda makes a good point," Thranduil stated. "How long before you three hellions arrive?"

From the back seat, Fiona tapped her own phone's screen to bring up a map. "About an hour's drive, I think," she called out as Silima held the phone over her shoulder. "Give or take the amount of traffic, and we might need to stop for gas...and we are not hellions!"

"Like hell you aren't!" the once-king shouted before he ended the call.

Silima stowed her phone away in her purse. "Are we really that bad?" she asked innocently. "I thought we were rather sweet, to be honest."

"I wouldn't go that far," Melda put in. "I don't want to be close by when you get struck by lightning!"

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to pack up and fly to California for the three, especially since they had to be in New York City for an event in three weeks time. None of them were actively involved, but they were the closest to the location to represent the company, so it fell to them to play the part of a PR department. A quick email to Galion had gotten them directions from the airport, where they rented a car for the duration of their visit. Needless to say that Thranduil was displeased, but they had every good intention in their decision to visit with their newly-found family member.

-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N:** I'm gonna end the chapter here, otherwise it will go on for at least twenty pages, and you guys deserve something new. ;) The next chapter will pick up right where this one ends, so it won't be very long before it's ready to go too.

Terry's gone, and now Rick's the new manager. Show of hands - how many of you expected it to be Payne? I considered it, but then I felt like he needed a different kind of role for the story, otherwise it'd just be stale. We're going to start seeing more of the OCs steadily as well; the problem is I just haven't found a place for them all yet, so some may only be mentioned in conversation. Also, I can see a sass-off between Galion and Erestor, can anyone else? And we've got elflings! And a pervy Legolas! But what's in the package he FedEx'd to Galion? Any guesses? You'll find out in the next chapter! :D


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